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UPS AND DOWNS 



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BY HARRY WATKINS. 




SANTA BARBARA, CAL.: VJ> 
Independent Book and Job House, 

1888- 



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Entered according to an Act of Congress in the year 1388, by 

HARRY WATKINS, 

iLi the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington, D. C. 

All Rights Reserved. 



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HARRY WATKINS, 



DEDICATION. 



To the three nearest related to me in a far away 
land, from whom the vicissitudes of misfortune 
have seperated me, perhaps, never to meet again, 
this little book is dedicated as a token of memory 
from the sad heart of the Author. 



PREFACE. 

This is an unpretentious little volume written in 
a hundred hours — in intervals snatched from 
dissipation. It is only the brief story of a wrecked 
and ruined life. My object is to deter others from 
following in the foot-steps that have been so fatal 
to me. 

Against the advice and consent of friends and 
relatives, and without the advantages of a school 
education, or library, I submit it to your sympa- 
thetic consideration; claiming an honor not yet 
conferred upon man; an honor that will not only 
perpetuate my name, but write it in fame high 
on the monument of time; namely, that I am the 
only individual in the world's history who wrote 
his own biography without being repeatedly re- 
quested to do so, and was not closely related 
either by consanguinity or affinity to Geo. Wash- 
ington, Pocahontas, or some other great man. 



NOTES 



A feeling is prevalent among various Denomin- 
ations against irony, sarcasm, satire and slang. 
This is a fanatical spirit, placing the merits of an 
author in a channel too small for the promulgation 
of feeling. 

Irony is a mode of speech, in which the mean- 
ing is contrary to the words, and is usually extra- 
vagant. Sarcasm and satire are synonomous 
terms and most generally are employed to censure 
vices and follies; with the object of reformation it 
partakes of wit or humor, and presents the style of 
originality. These are peculiar gifts with which 
few are endowed. 

Gibbon and other historians claimed Jesus of 
Nazareth the wittiest man of the age. It is true 
Gibbon was a little skeptical, a fault we can not 
condone. With all his faults however, we must 
credit him with fairness as an historiographer, for 
indeed the sarcasm and satire of our Saviour ac- 
complished a revolution in the religious world. 

The moral lessons as taught by Cicero were too 



8 UPS AND DOWNS 



austere in texture and sublime in speculation for 
actual use; he knew nothing of sarcasm, satire or 
wit; his forte was irony, eloquence, and madness. 
Our Saviour taught a sympathy for the fallen, the 
miserable, the guilty, the wretched; frequently 
using sarcasm and satire to fight sin. The Pharisee 
must have felt small, when he pointed him out as 
standing afar off and thanking the Lord that he 
was not like other men. In His own original, 
sarcastic style he told how hard it was for a rich 
man to " enter the Kingdom of Heaven/' 

The w T riter of this confession claims none of the 
honors of a polished scholar, but verily believes in 
his own rough manner he can reach to reformation 
a class discarded by the world. And to that aim 
this little book is written. Be not so unchari- 
table as to discredit the author's sincerity on 
account of his slangy indulgences. Having lived 
so long with the wretched, slang became a lan- 
guage. Victor Hugo said, "slang is the language 
of misery." Here we may, perhaps, be stopped. 
The fact may be generalized, which is sometimes a 
way alternating; it may be observed that every 
trade, every profession, all the accidents of social 
hierarchy, and all the forms of intelligence have 
their slang. 

" The classic academican who calls flowers 
Flora, the sea Neptune, love the Flames, a horse 
a charger has his slang." For the necessities of 



OF AN ILL-SPENT LIFE. 



struggle misery has invented a fighting language 
called slang. Slang, whether people allow it or 
not, has its syntax and poetry and is a language. 
The author spoke it fifteen years and can not 
resist it now. 



CHAPTER I. 

BORN OF CHRISTIAN PARENTS WORK IN THE COTTON 

FIELD PURCHASE RED EYE FROM COUNTRY GROCERY 

BROTHER AND I GET DRUNK IN A CAVE THE 

LOST BOYS THE NEIGHBORHOOD ALARMED AR- 
RIVE HOME SICK TELL A WONDERFUL STORY 

DOCTOR AND OLD WOMEN BELIEVE IT WHAT THE 

COUNTY PAPER SAID ADVICE TO YOUTH. 

An honest confession is good for the soul; and 
truth, stranger than fiction. As it is now plain to me 
that I have made a miserable failure in all I have 
undertaken, I have determined to write a short 
biographical sketch of my own life; and if its dis- 
mal details serve as a warning to one poor soul at 
least, I will have my proper reward. And truly do 
I trust that those who follow me through these 
pages may do so with charity. In nothing will I 
vaunt myself — Heaven knows I cannot — in noth- 
ing will I spare myself. 

I was born of Christian parents, in moderate 
circumstances, near Murfreesboro, Tennessee. 
From earliest recollection I drank all the whisky 



12 UPS AND DOWNS 



I could get, but never was what one might call 
drunk, until my twelfth year. 

One hot midsummer day I was assisting my 
brother — my older brother John — to hoe the cot- 
ton. The sun sent its great, broad rays in focused 
heat fiercely upon our heads. Like other honest 
farmers, we were earning our bread, as God in the 
primeval days commanded, "by the sweat of our 
brows." The heat was so intense that we con- 
cluded to have a " cooler." My brother gave me 
two dollars, and, while I went to a country grocery 
and invested in two quarts of " red eye," he gath- 
ered the mint and had the sugar ready for a julep. 
A great cave was on our farm, through which ran 
a spring of pure, cold water; and there we retired 
for the grand jubilee. We made and drank mint 
juleps as long as we could see each other, and then 
took it straight out of the bottle. We repeated 
poetry, embraced in a maudlin fashion, drank 
whisky, and fought each other there from ten in 
the morning until dark. Then we concluded to 
go home, but were too drunk to navigate, and 
could not get out of the cave. We made repeated 
efforts to reach the top, but rolled back, deathly 
sick. It was awful dark down there, and we threw 
up all over each other. We cursed and prayed 
to get out, but there we lay as limber as dishrags. 
The neighborhood turned out with lanterns to look 
for us, but no one thought of the cave, and there 



OF AN ILL-SPENT LIFE. 1 3 

we lay in drunken misery until the dawn of day. 
When we made the riffle and went home, we 
found the family weeping for the lost boys. We 
told them we had eaten blackberries and the 
locust eggs on the blackberries had nearly killed 
us. My mother put me to bed and sent a nigger 
flvino- after a doctor. The old ladies for miles 
around came to talk the matter over, and recom- 
mended sage and saffron tea. The doctor arrived, 
wisely looked through his spectacles at my tongue 
and said, 'locust eggs." They pumped my stom- 
ach, scraped my tongue, and then the doctor and 
old women analyzed the locust eggs. I could 
smell the whisky and mint when I would throw up, 
but they never dropped. I could hear my brother 
groan in an adjoining room, but I could not help 
him, as I had to look out for No. i. Notwith- 
standing the fine blackberry crop, not a berry was 
gathered in the neighborhood, and I read in the 
county paper how the skillful physician saved Joe 
Watkins' boys when poisoned with locust eggs. 

As is customary, but to my surprise, I recovered 
from this little spree, which was the beginning of 
a drunken life. It is in after chapters that you 
will see the horrors that befell me in manhood. O, 
youth ! I would say to you all: Don't drink to be 
like a man, for it is not manly. Touch not the 
accursed stuff in which devils riot. It will shorten 
your days, dethrone your reason, enervate you, 



14 UPS AND DOWNS 



deprive you not alone of the joys of this life, but 
cast you forth from the indescribable glories of 
that Heaven which God, through Christ, has 
promised. Happiness in this life — even your im- 
mortal soul, you imperil for a cup whose dregs, 
even as you drink it, are bitter, most bitter. 




CHAPTER II. 

FAMILY REVERSES AMBITIOUS TO TRAVEL LEAVE 

HOME AT THIRTEEN EN ROUTE FOR TEXAS 

ACROSS THE GULF WITHOUT MONEY RIDE ON THE 

BUMPER OF A FREIGHT COLD AND HUNGRY 

KINDNESS AT WAXAHATCHIE ATTEND BALLS AND 

THEATRES THE LASSES TRAVEL AS FRUIT TREE 

AGENT CORRESPOND WITH MY SWEETHEART 

DRIVE PONIES TO TENNESSEE MY SILLY BRAVERY 

RIDICULOUS APPEARANCE BASHFULNESS MEET 

MY SWEETHEART HOME AND RECEPTION PA'S 

CLOTHES. 

My father, in his old age, met with financial 
reverses; lost all of his property in speculations, 
and was not able to send me to school. This 
proved a heavy blow upon our family, especially 
upon my father, coming, as it did, in the evening 
of his life. It is natural for every boy to think 
his father the best. You have heard little boys 
say: "My pa can whip your pa." I will only add 
that my father was too liberal for his own good — 
he did for me all he was able to do — so it became 



1 6 UPS AND DOWNS 

necessary for me to support myself. At the tender 
age of thirteen, with the rose of youth upon my 
cheek, my young heart full of energy, I became 
ambitious to seek a fortune in Texas. Fond hope 
led me into enchanting regions of fancy, where 
the young mind loves to wander. I had heard 
and read romantic stories of that sunny land, where 
innocence was equity and talent was triumph. I 
had been told of the high, green hills of Texas; of 
her smiling valleys, boundless plains, and sweet- 
scented flow r ers; of the mustang ponies and the 
cattle upon a thousand hills. My heart leaped 
within me, as I thus pictured this weird, wild land 
of the west. So I intimated to my good old 
parents that I must try the realities of a hidden 
future in some other clime. 

I have read in dime novels how the family gath- 
ered around the hearthstone, talked and wept; 
arranged his wearing apparel, and placed in his 
Saratoga trunk all the photographs and the little 
Bible, the night before Johnny left for college. 
How the neighbors came in to bid him a sad fare- 
well, and how the folks fell on his neck and wept 
at the depot, and the last word was, " Good-by, 
my boy; be good." But we didn't have any of that 
at our house. Oh, no! the neighbors didn't come; 
only my parents were there to bid me a tender 
farewell. I sold my pet horse to my brother, and 
walked to the depot. Certain boys, noticing a 



OF AN ILL-SPENT LIFE. 1/ 

bundle in a red handkerchief (my clothing) which 
I carried, inquired, "Which way?" I answered 
carelessly, " Down the road." Thus I launched 
out, a lad of thirteen, into the broad ocean of 
humanity. 

At the depot I fell in with several gentlemen, 
also gfoing to Texas, to one of whom I loaned all 
my money. In consequence I had to beat my way 
from New Orleans to Galveston. There I spent 
twenty-four hours without anything to eat. The 
photograph of a fried chicken would have tickled 
me. From Galveston to Ennis (several hundred 
miles) I " bilked ' : my way on the bumper of a 
freight train. It was a bleak night in December 
when I stood on the streets of Ennis, cold and 
hungry. Imagine it. I can remember, still, how 
brightly the moon shone, how cold and clear the 
sky. How I wandered, a friendless little boy, 
heartsick, as well as hungry, remembering the 
home I had left. How I heard the supper bells 
ring, but couldn't go. Finally I persuaded a stage - 
driver to " bum " me to Waxahachie, where I orot 
breakfast — the first meal in two days. An old 
friend of my father met me and gave me what 
money I needed, treating me with such kindness 
that its recollection will linger with me always. 

Fortune seemed to have turned favorable. I 
was introduced to many fair little lasses; escorted 
them to all the balls and theaters, and learned to 



1 8 UPS AND DOWNS 

drink fifteen glasses of beer a day and stay on my 
heels. No doubt, those innocent little girls are 
matrons now; be that as it will, I love them yet. 

Purchasing a pony, my first venture in business 
was traveling as a fruit tree agent from house to 
house. With only three dollars left, this business 
was pursued. Many good old farmers took a 
fancy for me on account of my youth, and never 
charged me for lodging. It was hard work and a 
rough life, but I was happy and contented, which 
is a jewel. 

From earliest recollection I have been bashful 
in the presence of ladies, and would be very shy 
and make many blunders when I met them. Afar 
back in Tennessee, the land of my nativity, there 
lived a black-eyed maiden, who was my first love. 
She was the sweet idol of my lonely heart. I cor- 
responded with her, representing that I was in the 
city, leading a high life; when, in reality, I was in 
the country "roughing it." In my vivid fancy I 
was to accumulate a fortune, go home and take 
her for my bride, and then we would fly to sunny 
Italy, where we would sing and dance and dream 
beneath the soft cerulean skies. But it didn't turn 
out that way. Several stockmen placed the utmost 
confidence in me, and sold me a lot of horses, to 
be paid for when I delivered my trees. I drove 
them through the country, from Cleburne, Texas, 
to Memphis. It rained incessantly for two months, 



OF AN ILL-SPENT LIFE. 1 9 

during which time I did not sleep in a house or 
change my clothing. From Memphis I shipped 
my ponies to Belle Buckle, Tennessee, and I never 
will forget the morning- we arrived there so close 
to my old Southern home. When the ponies were 
safely corralled in the stockpens, the people from 
all around gathered to see the Texas curiosities. 
Every one knows that a Texas pony will pitch, 
but, to display my silly bravery to the wondering 
people, I would ride until my nose bled. My sup- 
ply of clothing was indeed scanty. My hair was 
long and sticking out of the top of my hat; my 
pants were worn completely out behind. I had a 
high-heeled boot on one foot, and a low-quartered 
shoe on the other. As I had no coat to hide the 
rents in my pantaloons, I went to a store and 
purchased a long, seventy-five-cent duster. Then 
I returned to the stockpens. While trying to nail 
up a pair of draw-bars, I suddenly felt hot air under 
my arms, and, when I looked around, a hungry 
horse had my duster in his month. I jerked aw r ay 
from him and tore the tail entirely off. With only 
the sleeves and collar left me, of course I was 
mortified. I looked like a comic picture in the 
almanac, and when I started up town again, I met 
the same young lady with whom I had been cor- 
responding, concerning my high life in Texas. 
And there I saw love's dream vanish aw r ay. She 
gave me a distant bow, and I stumbled and fell 



20 UPS AND DOWNS 



down. I cannot describe my feelings. I ran off, 
and as I turned the corner at the rate of a mile a 
minute, I heard people laughing. 

It was only ten miles to my father s house, and 
I saddled a pony and started. I have read of the 
return of the prodigal son — how they killed the 
fatted calf, put the ring on his finger, dressed him 
in the finest robe, and called in the neighbors to 
rejoice over the boy that was lost, but now found. 
But we didn't have a great deal of that at our 
house. They thought it was my fun, and would 
not let me come in. Cholera was raging in the 
country, and they were afraid I had brought it. 
I finally persuaded them that I was not playing, 
and was allowed to take a seat on the front piazza. 
Then they all looked at me and said: " This is 
Texas." I had no change of clothing, but ma said 
I could wear pa's clothes until I could do better. 
Pa weighed two hundred and forty pounds, and I 
weighed eighty-two, but it was the last chance. 
Pa wore a beegum hat, and old style, flap pants 
in front, large enough for three kids like me, but 
it was the best I could do. Then, on account of 
cholera, they were afraid to make this grand 
change in the house, and I had to go out in the 
apple orchard to dress. Pa wore No. 10 boots 
and I wore 4's, but it was better than no boots at 
all. Notwithstanding I was pa's son and had on 
pa's clothes, I didn't look much like pa. I looked 



OF AN ILL-SPENT LIFE. 



21 



like a scarecrow. A little negro baby looked at 
me and went into spasms. The next day they 
sent me to Murfreesboro to buy clothes to fit me. 
I put all the rags and pillows in pa's pants to fill 
them up, but people laughed w r hen I got aboard 
the train. 




CHAPTER III. 

ATTEND NASHVILLE EXPOSITION RETURN TO TEXAS 

— CLERK MONEY AND FRIENDS A SOCIAL 

DRINKER CONTINUE TO ACCUMULATE IN THE 

POWER OF RUM FAIL IN BUSINESS ATTEMPT 

SUICIDE THE HORRORS FRUIT TREE AGENT AGAIN 

VISIT THE WILD WEST DIDN'T ROB THE TRAIN 

EXPERIENCE IN BELLE PLAINS. 

I disposed of my ponies and spent the entire 
summer at home. Nothing of consequence hap- 
pened, and I attended the picnics — even the Nash- 
ville Exposition — in my suit purchased on time at 
Murfreesboro. I returned in the fall with my trees 
to Texas, where I realized, in various speculations, 
several thousand dollars. To learn business, I 
clerked a few months for S. Fields, in Gatesville, 
whom I may say was one of those few men upon 
whom God seemed to have set his seal of nobility. 
It is only too recent that I sat by his bedside when 
life was fleeting, and heard his last sigh before he 
passed to death and the grave; dead, but not for- 
gotten. 



OF AN ILL-SPENT LIFE. 23 

Then I engaged in mercantile business. I was 

t_> 4_> 

fifteen years old; sold goods as fast as I could 
receive them, and prospered fairly for a youngster, 
Soon I was enabled to command a large credit. 
This swelled my head a little, and I began to think 
I was smart; which idea proves the ruin of many 
young men. 

Well, I was a gentlemanly drinker during the 
day and took in the town by night. Then I 
thought and argued that I could control myself, 
and that whenever I saw that whisky was getting 
the best of me, I would quit. 

To make a long and sad story short, with 
money, and friends to care for me and my money. 
I led a high life — and no one, with the reason of 
man, ever dreamed, when he commenced the use 
of ardent spirits, of ever becoming a drunkard. 
Unfortunately, though, before he suspects that 
danger lurks nigh, he has passed the bounds. It 
is but through Mercy that he can retrace his steps. 

Do you remember, reader, the inscription which 
Dante found upon the Gates of Hell ? " Ye who 
enter here, leave all hope behind." And it is 
almost so when the fatal thirst has seized upon 
one of us. There is no by-path of escape; it is the 
mercy of God that opens a way, and He will help 
us, even unto the end. Praised be His holy name. 
But I will go back to mv own early and useless 
life. 



24 trrs AND DOWNS 



Notwithstanding- my dissipation, I continued to 
accumulate. With all my faults, I will be allowed 
to say that I am liberal in the extreme. Gatesville 
was a pleasant little town, and I enjoyed the 
esteem and confidence of jolly companions. Often 
would I visit the Eastern cities, and, after my 
return, would tell the village boys about my trip. 
I was only drinking to be social with my fellowmen, 
or drive a trade. To have called me an "inebriate" 
would have been insulting. I loved and had con- 
fidence in my fellow man. Gifted with idle jests 
and a talent and love for talking, we passed days 
of pleasure and nights of mirth. When I took an 
evening ride with my sweetheart, a little w r ine and 
cinnamon bark added zest, eloquence, poetry and 
song to my conversation. Sometimes she would 
appear to understand; would laugh, and accuse me 
of being gentlemanly tipsy. Then I would roll up 
my eyes like a dying calf and say : " Oh, no; I'm 
doing this for fun — it's the other boys, not this boy, 
who are drunk." The barkeepers laughed at my 
anecdotes, and set up the first drink to get me 
started. % 

Strangely enough, I prospered. One of my 
clerks handed me six thousand dollars at one time 
— all my own. How often, when I think of this 
happy time, and then of the ills which afterwards 
came upon me, caused by the fiend in whose toils 
I have been, that it would have been better if the 



OF AN ILL-SPENT LIFE. . 25 

grave had opened then and I had sunk into its 
bosom. I was welcomed everywhere by moneyed 
people. " Belshazzar, King of the Chaldeans," 
opened his wine. Vanity Fair opened wide her 
portals to admit me. Happiness was with me and 
around me, as my gleeful voice echoed in the air, 
and, were it not for the cursed stuff, I might be 
happy now. Unaware of the danger, I fell into 
the power of rum. I falsely pictured peace when 
there was no peace. I had contracted a habit I 
could not shake off; and with the speed of light- 
ning I was going down the hill. Roused to con- 
sciousness of danger at last, the serpent folds were 
about me, and I had no power to escape. 

I made a miserable failure in business; and in 
six months, could not raise two dollars to go to a 
circus. All of my time was spent around saloons, 
devising and concocting some scheme to get a 
drink. Almost every day I had a drunken row; 
was tried before every court for some crime. My 
property, first mortgaged, then sold — and I was 
driven out into the cold, to find sustenance from 
the hard hand of charity. Friends ! I had them 
not, although they had my money. Finally I be- 
came so disconsolate that I purchased a bottle of 
chloral, went into an old vacant store, barred the 
doors, drank the deadly poison, and then laid me 
down to die. Pictures of horror were before me. 
Describe them I cannot well do. Men and women, 



26 UPS AND DOWNS 



in the ghastly cerements of the grave, ghoulish 
figures in the dread decomposition of death, went 
whirling in a Maelstrom of vapor before my fren- 
zied vision. Then I could see faces — the faces of 
the loved and lost — faces that never in life had 
looked upon me save with eyes of love. They 
glared and gibbered to me from the dark corners 
— for night had come — and pointed at me in 
fiendish glee. I implored them for pity; they 
waved me back with the same demoniac laughter. 
Then, again, came the fearful whirlpool; house, 
myself, the world, faces I had known, scenes I 
remembered, all mingling, surging, sweeping, on 
in one mad velocity. 

Unconsciousness mercifully crept upon me. 
There I lay for twenty-four hours, a wretched dy- 
ing drunkard. Several charitable gentlemen 
found me, and nursed me back to life. There are 
Christian people in this world. May God bless 
those good men who came to me in this saddest 
of all hours. 

Did I let drink alone ? No ! Shame and 
remorse led me still further, and into darker and 
more dismal ruin I struggled. But, finally, I 
sobered for a few days, and again obtained a situa- 
tion as fruit tree agent, these charitable men hop- 
ing that absence from the purlieus of a town might 
save me. This was quite a fall from my former 
circumstances. Sensitive about my penniless con- 



OF AN ILL-SPENT LIFE. 2? 

dition, again I resorted to the wine cup for con- 
solation — for a moment's forgetful ness. Going to 
Hamilton for the purpose of selling trees, I 
remained there drunk a full week without mention- 
ing my business. Then, without a nickel, I went 
through Comanche, only succeeding, however, in 
getting drunk, and from thence to Callahan county, 
which, at that time, was the "Wild West." I was 
a fair singer, a good yarn-teller, and. in that way, 
entertained the barkeepers and saloon loungers 
for my whisky. I figured on robbing a train to 
"make a raise," but I am thankful to my God now 
that I never succeeded. I know that some old, 
long-faced brother, will condemn me, and throw 
down mv book w r hen he reads this; but whiskvand 
circumstances will change a man's whole nature. 
As well undertake to point out a tree in the forest 
that had never been shaken by the winds as to 
point out that individual whom evil temptations 
had never sw r erved. 

In Belle Plains the hotel-keeper put my saddle 
in his cellar to hold for my board; but, with my 
six-shooter, I persuaded his French cook to bring 
it out and nicely arrange it on my horse. I will 
not stay to explain, but. I was not altogether to 
blame in this violent transaction. The recollection 
of this melancholy trip affects me still, somew T hat 
like vitriol thrown upon a fresh wound. Much, 
indeed, would I sacrifice to forget it. 



CHAPTER IV. 

HOMEWARD BOUND— SERIOUS DIFFICULTIES HORSE 

RACE — 'NIGHT WITH A BAPTIST MINISTER HIS KIND 

ADMONITION FRIENDSHIP ARRIVE IN GATES- 

YILLE FALL OUT WITH THE HYPOCRITE — -DRUNK 

EIGHT MONTHS- — BEG IN WACO — CLERK FOR SANGER 

BROS SOBER — ON A SPREE— ROW IN GATESV1LLE 

HOTEL — - ESCAPE — HARDSHIPS — FUGITIVE FROM 
JUSTICE, 

From Belle Plains I returned home, and on 
my way stopped at a horse-racing ground, where 
I do not see how I escaped death, for I had 
several close combats, with deadly weapons, and 
with men physically much stronger than I. It 
was the whisky; it was not myself. People say 
that what is in a man sober, will come out when 
he is drunk, But it is not so; when you have gone 
to the last stage and last degradation of drunken- 
ness. I started home, beating and bluffing my 
way, I remember staying all night in Hamilton 



OF AN ILL-SPENT LIFE. 2() 

county with a Baptist preacher, who had prayers. 
It was the first family worship I had heard since a 
boy. In his prayer the good old gentleman inti- 
mated that he knew I was leading a wicked life, 
and prayed the Eternal Spirit to reform me. Then 
I thought of childhood; how we knelt around our 
hearthstone at home, and how my good old father 
prayed for the protection of his children. It was 
the first word of sympathy I had heard for years. 
I had felt that no friends were left me. I believe 
it was Kossuth, the Hungarian patriot, who once 
said to Henry Clay, that a home and true friends 
are the grandest gifts from God to man. My ex- 
perience has been that the most unfortunate, 
unhappy feeling that can ever befall any member 
of the human family is to feel that he has no 
friends. 

" Oh ! what is life without a friend. 
To dissipate our gloom; 

A. path where naught b\_it briers grow- 
Where flowers never bloom " 

Then it was I felt I had found a friend — a 
father — rin the good old man. While he prayed I 
wept. When he arose from his knees, I went to 
him as a child might go to its parent. He pointed 
me to the beauties of the Christian religion; how 
I had a friend in Jesus; that a blessed Savior came 
into this world for me; that he hung on Calvary's 
Cross for me; that he cried, "Father, forgive them, 
for they know not what they do," and that was for 



30 UPS AND DOWNS 



me. Then it was I realized how ungrateful I had 
been, and what a wretched sinner I was. He told 
me that the Lord would not always chide, neither 
would he keep his anger forever. As a father 
pitieth his children, so the Lord pitieth me. That 
the goodness of God was stamped upon the broad, 
blue sky, and twinkled in everv star. Repentance 
began to move within me. His words touched 
the tenderest chords of my heart, and that night I 
plead for mercy. 

When morning came, after a delightful country 
breakfast, the old gentleman saddled his horse to 
ride with me a little w T ay. As a father would talk 
to his son, so the good old man talked to me. 
Then he said good-bye, and we parted, but his 
admonitions lingered with me many a day. Several 
times on my journey home I hitched my horse and 
knelt bv the roadside. Onward toward home I 
went, fully resolved to lead a better life. 

As soon as I reached Gatesville I sought one of 
the leading members of the church, and told him, 
God being my helper, I would be a better man. 
Also, I wanted to borrow a Bible to read. He 
said he did not believe a word of it — that it was 
another one of my tricks. That made me angry. 
He seemed to thank his God that he was not like 
other men, and gave me no encouragement, 
whatever. His face looked as long as a fishing 
pole, and he was as serious as an undertaker. He 



OF AN ILL-SPENT LIFE. 3 1 



had belonged to the Methodist church forty years, 
and it hadn't cost him but a quarter. He had been 
sitting on a hollow log most of the time; singing, "I'm 
Glad Salvation's Free." God pity such hypocrites; 
they will get due reward. Stumbling blocks are 
they, indeed, to those who would turn to the bet- 
ter life. I did not strike him in the face, but got 
drunk, and remained on one spree for eight 
months. With me it w r as to drink one day 
to drown the shame and agony of the day 
before. I went to Waco and slept about wagon 
yards, depots, and all sorts of dives for two months, 
without a clean shirt. Many old friends refused 
to recognize me on the streets. Occasionally I 
would go out in the suburbs and beg for some- 
thing to eat. How often I prayed to die ! One 
morning I met a young man on the streets who 
carried me into a barber shop, had my long hair 
cut, and paid for a shave. God bless the noble 
young man ! Slight as the deed was, I think the 
angels of Heaven must have rejoiced over the 
philanthropy of this Christian gentleman. Then 
I hired* to Sanger Brothers, and acted as high 
porter in the sweeping department for a week; but 
I never stay in the lower department when I 
remain sober, and soon was raised to a clerkship. 
Two indictments stood against me in Gatesville, 
for assault with intent. to murder, and Mr. Sanger 
allowed me to return to mv trials, which I did, 



3 2 UPS AND DOWNS 



sober, and like a gentleman — and came clear. 

For three months all went nicely. But on 
Christmas night I was walking up the street, and 
found several clerks in a bar-room, drinking. They 
appeared to be having a jolly time, and insisted 
that I should take "just a little, and no more." 
As soon as I had tasted the cursed stuff I was 
doomed. All night I rambled; then left Waco for 
Gatesville — drunk. It is my disposition to go 
somewhere, to travel, when I am under the in- 
fluence of intoxicants. One night in Gatesville I 
walked into a hotel, and they ordered me out. I 
take all the blame upon myself, but I didn't go 
just then. The consequence was another drunken 
row. I will not attempt to describe the battle, but 
we raised a pandemonium, and frightened the 
guests out of their wits. Two young men awoke 
me early next morning, and persuaded me that it 
would be best to leave the country, as there was 
sufficient evidence to send me to the penitentiary. 
There was, of course, no likelihood of my being 
able to give bond, so I made my escape. I slept 
in the Leon river bottom for ten days, fed by a 
negro boy. 

Sometimes, at midnight, when all was silent, the 
village people slumbering, I would walk through 
town — gazing with a sadness too intense for 
words, at the houses where I had once been an 
honored guest, the inmates, of which, now, would 



OF AN ILL-SPENT LIFE. 33 

have driven me forth as a vagrant, or handed me 
over to justice as a criminal. Whither should I 
wander, and what should I do ? But I can say to 
my readers, now, and with a heart filled with gra- 
titude to God, that He has never deserted me, 
though, at many wretched moments in my life, I 
have felt that he had. In the darkest days of my 
degradation and misery, He has not failed to raise 
up a friend for me. So it was in the present case. 
When hope was well nigh dead, despair croaking 
within my breast— then came this unexpected suc- 
cor. I received some money, clothing, and a pony. 
Then disguised, under the name of Smith, I 
traveled northawrd until I reached Fort Worth. 






__! 



CHAPTER V. 

FT. WORTH VARIETY THEATRE • — THE DELIRIOUS 

DANCE OF DEATH PAINTED FEMALES THEY SAY 

"i HAD A FIGHT" ARRESTED— LIFE IN A TEXAS 

PRISON — DESPERATE RESOLVES DYING WITH 

PNUEMONIA THE PATH TO RUIN, DEGRADATION, 

AND HELL 

My first night in Fort Worth was one of hide- 
ous debauchery. I attended a variety theater, 
with a bar-room attached, of course. After the 
performance came dancing, in which I madly 
joined. Anything! Anything! to forget my troubles. 
And, throughout the long night, I mixed and 
mingled with this delirious dance of death. After 
each set, it was the custom in this infamous house 
to treat the painted female — the mockery of 
womanhood — who had acted as partner. I was in- 
troduced to the proprietor. He laughed loudly at 
every vile anecdote I told, flattered me, and so did 
his myrmidons, and the scant-arrayed creatures, 
miscalled women — as recklessly I threw T my 
monev over the bar. Then back I rushed to the 



OF AN ILL-SPENT LIFE. 35 



dance, and the mad revelry went on. If, while 
looking at Holbien's celebrated painting. "The 
Dance of Death," I should see each skeleton with 
its burning eyes, step from the canvas and join in 
a ghastly whirl, it could scarcely horrify me more 
than the recollection of that night. If the laugh- 
ter of mcckine fiends in the dim corners were not 
heard, it was, perhaps, the mirthless, delirious 
laughter of mortals, which drowned it. Whisky 
was the god; delirium the high priest; death and 
madness the ministers of that house of hell. 

It is the old story. I continued drinking until 
all my money was gone, as well as all I could bor- 
row. Then I tried to get credit w T here all my 
money had gone — in the same saloon — but those 
who knew me then, knew me no longer. Then I 
would hang around, lean on the counter, and beg 
for a drink. They would call me a drunken dog. 
Reckless, miserable, as I was, I had not spirit 
enough to resent it. The hotels would not receive 
me. The weather was icy cold, and I had no 
shelter. 

Dissipation had about crazed me; I had been 
drunk so long. At this epoch remembrance leaves 
me, but they tell me I had a fight. They arrested 
me and placed me in jail. There I lay for days 
and weeks, and months. I could not tell how 
many. I cared not to count them. I endured 
the hardships of prison life in the Forth Worth 



36 UPS AND DOWNS 



jail, with one lousy blanket, and three horse-thieves 
for companions. While I slept upon an iron floor; 
the cold breezes of the north pierced and chilled 
me. I shivered because I had no clothing. And 
there I lay suffering, not so much in body as in 
mind — a pauper, a jail-bird, a tramp. The thoughts 
that came to me then were weird and strange, and 
I cannot describe them now; but I wondered, 
among other phantasms, why God permitted his 
creatures to immure a fellow-creature like brutes 
in an iron den. How often did I long for the 
weapons of to-day and the future — the weapon 
that equalizes the rich and the poor — dynamite. 
What a magnificent spectacle, as masonry, iron 
shutters, keepers, wretches and myself mounted 
to the heavens together. Such a spectacle the 
people of Fort Worth would have had if my des- 
perate desires could have been satisfied. 

I was made for liberty and fresh air, and soon 
was taken dangerously ill with pneumonia. The 
county physician was sent for. He came in in a 
careless manner, with a cigar between his lips, 
knelt by my side, felt my pulse, and said that I 
was dying. 

After he had gone came thoughts natural to the 
dying, and the following may truly be called 
impromptu : 



OF AN ILL-SPENT LIFE. 37 

"Dying, yes, slowly dying" 

Hpre on my pallet, hard, 
While echo mocks my sighing 

Jn this dismal prison ward. 

No sound of a petition 

Goes upward for my sake, 
They call me in derision 

A jail bird— human wreck. 

Yet, sad the recollection 

Ere trouble came to me, 
I owned th»- deep affection, 

Of home and family. 

With friends, a home, and treasure—' 

I envied none on earth; 
My daj s were days of pleasure, 

My nights were nights of mirth. 

What wrought this change, 0, Heaven- 
Let me not think of that; 

My temperament was uneven, 
Injustice on me sat. 

Come, death— kind death— relieve me, 

set free my burdened soul; 
Let earthly ills not grieve me 

Till I reach man's destined goal. 

In spite of imprisonment, wretched treatment, 
bad food, lice, cruelty and agony, I grew better, 
though I cannot understand it, for we were treated 
worse than brutes. The jailor would not give me 
a bit of coffee, sick as I was. I know not whether 
this wretch be alive or dead. If alive, he has "a 
certain fearful expectation of judgment;" if dead, 
some fiend is pouring red hot coffee grounds down 
his throat — perhaps. 

There were fifty-two prisoners in the jail, and 
with the exception of the thieves, pickpockets, etc., 
nearly all said whisky had landed them in this de- 
lectable retreat. I do not hate bark-keepers; I w T ish 
them well, and in some better business, but, before 



38 UPS AND DOWNS 



I would stand behind a counter and deal out the 
cursed stuff to the rising generation, I would al- 
most repeat the same wretched life. O ! my God, 
Thou knowest all things; Thou knowest my heart; 
I come not asking for earthly fame or treasure, 
but give me wisdom and strength to wield an in- 
fluence over young men, that they follow not in 
my footsteps, which have strayed down the path 
that leads to ruin, degradation, and hell. 

As I close this chapter, I go down upon my 
knees. I am yet weak, and temptation is before 
me still. Christian reader ! will you not pray for 
me ? 




CHAPTER VI. 

MCBETH COMES AFTER ME HIS KINDNESS IN THE 

GATESVILLE JAIL BOND WITHOUT REQUEST 

MELANCHOLY AND DISGRACE FORCE THE STAGE 

DRIVER TO HAUL ME IN WACO TRIP TO WHIT- 
NEY MEET AN OLD FRIEND HIS DEATH ALONE 

IN RAGS AT HIS GRAVE A PENNILESS EXILE. 

W. A McBeth, of Coryell county, came for me, 
as I was wanted at court in that county. I will 
ever thank him for his kindness. It was a mystery 
to the Fort Worth officials when he refused to 
chain me down. We traveled for several cold 
days through the country in a wagon. As we 
passed through Cleburne the people gathered 
around to take a look at the villain. One old gen- 
tleman asked me to what I attributed my ruin. I 
made him no answer, but pointed toward a saloon. 
We arrived at Gatesville on Sunday, and I spent 
the night in jail, though I had two blankets, and 
the cells were more comfortable than in Fort 
Worth, and the food given me was decent. 

The next morning without any request a bond 



40 UPS AND DOWNS 



was made, and I was released. But, like the 
Prisoner of Chillon, I almost, preferred the solitude 
of a lonely prison cell to the cold charity of the 
world. And as I walked the streets, feeling dis- 
graced, without a word of comfort or recognition 
from those whom I had known for years, the spot 
of verdure— the oasis of tenderness— left in my 
heart was bleeding for one kind word. But I never 
found it. My clothes were tattered from the filth 
of the prison, I was covered with creeping insects, 
I begged fifty cents from a negro (once my ser- 
vant), and invested in whisky— my blood runs 
cold when I write the word "whisky." As water 
seeks its level, so I sought the company of the 
unfortunate. Ashamed to stay at home, I took 
the stage about dark for Waco. The driver called 
for my fare, but, half drunk and reckless to the 
extreme, I demanded to ride free or die. We 
finally arranged matters, and got along very pleas- 
antly. About 2 o'clock in the morning we arrived 
in Waco. I saw a bar-room open, and entertained 
the fellow so successfully with the ups and downs 
of my life that he gave me several drinks. 

I hung around Waco a few days until an excur- 
sion party started for the then new town of Whit- 
ney. I got aboard the train. The conductor called 
for my ticket, but I had no ticket, he called for 
my money and I had no money. As it was but a 
short ride he didn't put me off — but I have struck 



OF AN ILL-SPENT LIFE. 4 1 

several clever conductors in my rounds who would 
help me off at every water tank and tunnel on the 
road. Two young- men sat on the seat in front of 
me, and to one, in by-gone days of my prosperity 
I had loaned money without interest or security, 
and when on the bed of affliction I had carried 
him to my home, employed a physician and nursed 
him back to life again. For the other I had ob- 
tained a situation; but alas, they remembered me 
not. They gazed at my clothes; asked where I 
had been and whither I was going, but seemed 
ashamed to converse with me. They smoked 
cigars and drank wine in my presence, but they 
offered me none. Kind reader, could you only 
imagine my feelings on that occasions, it would 
teach you a lesson never to be forgotten. 

When we arrived in Whitney I saw, standing 
apart from the crowd, a young man w T hom I had 
also known in days of prosperity, and so w r ell 
acquainted was I with his disposition that I was 
confident of his friendship under any and all circum- 
stances. I approached him and held out my hand, 
which he grasped with brotherly affection. But I 
noticed that he was also seedy. " Ed, have you 
got any money ?" was my first remark. His voice 
trembled as he answered: " No, Harry; whisky 
has ruined me." I had known him from childhood. 
He was at one time the pride of his country; had 
graduated at the head of his class, and married 



42 UPS AND DOWNS 



the belle of his county. I was one of his atten- 
dants, when he was married, and enjoyed the hos- 
pitality of his hearthstone. I had ridden in Pull- 
man Palace cars with him, and drank champagne 
with him in the finest hotels on the Continent, with 
servants to wait upon us. His father was wealthy 
and left him a fortune. He selected a beautiful 
country site and reared upon it a palace more 
beautiful than the Isle of Blennerhassett. Shrub- 
bery that Shenstone might have envied, bloomed 
around him. Music that might have charmed 
Calypso and her nymphs, was his. An extensive 
library spread its treasures before him. A philoso- 
phical apparatus revealed to him the mysteries of 
Nature. Pictures by old masters adorned the 
walls of the mansion he lived in. Lace curtains 
were swept gracefully from the windows; his parlors 
illuminated by brilliant chandeliers, while the sweet 
breezes would blow from orange groves, through 
fields of flowers into marble halls, to dwell upon his 
happy home. He had a noble heart, a brilliant 
mind; he gave to the poor, he comforted the sick. 
No beggar ever knocked at his door without relief 
— but at last whisky ruined him. He drank from 
time to time until not only his fortune and happy 
home were gone for the accursed stuff, but he was 
heavily involved, with the stain of crime marked 
upon the records of his country against him; and 
he was compelled to seek seclusion, with a ficti- 



OF AN ILL-SPENT LIFE. 43 



tious name in the solitude of this western land. 
His beautiful wife he left shivering in poverty be- 
hind him. Poor husband and poor wife ! May 
Heaven pity and protect you, for the horrible habit 
has ruined a realm on earth. 

It was Sunday. We walked to the hotel to- 
gether. We looked and felt so forlorn that it 
required quite a fluency of conversation to get din- 
ner without money. After dinner w T e walked 
up town, and there I parted with the last family 
relic I had left me under the broad canopy of 
Heaven. It was a ring, placed upon my finger years 
before by a good old mother, with the parting 
words: "Be good, my boy, and keep this in remem- 
brance of me." For the ring I received three 
dollars; I believe it cost some twenty-five. To 
drown our weak, disconsolate feelings, we spent 
the three dollars, all for whisky. But the land- 
lord would not let us return. We were called old 
drunken tramps, which is hard to take. Cold, weak 
and hungry, we slept around lumber yards and de- 
pots, and on the following night I begged a 
drunken Irishman for a nickel (God bless the 
Irishman, he gave the last nickel he had), and with 
this amount I bought bread. ' 

I shall never forget the beautiful night in De- 
cember when we wandered down the railroad 
together to divide the bread. We had two and 
one-half cents' worth each, and in all my experi- 



44 UPS AND DOWNS 

ence (and I have looked at both sides of the 
world), I never saw two young men so disconso- 
late as on that occasion. We cared not to look 
upon the fair morning as it broke upon the pale 
path of night. We cared not to gaze with delight 
upon the bright sunlight as it arose from the dark 
sea and sank to rest beneath the Western waters. 
This world had lost all its gladness and sweetness 
to us, and we prayed to die. We were silent, 
until poor Ed said : " This is hard, isn't it Harry ? 
Did we ever think we would come to this?" 
" Whisky has ruined us," was all that I could say; 
and as the pale moon and silvery stars glittered in 
the liquid air to deck a world in glory, I saw tears 
tricking down the poor boy's cheeks. 

Young gentlemen, when you read this, take 
warning, and don't drink — -for it will ruin you. It 
is better that a man had never been born than to 
be addicted to the habit. And it is so sad to tell 
you — I write this in sorrow : My young friend 
never lived to return to his home again, not even 
as a prodigal son. He never lived to look upon 
the face of his fair young wife any more. Oh, no ! 
He died in an old out-house with delirium tre- 
mens; was buried by the charity of the county, and 
I was the only one to stand over the poor boy's 
grave, in my rags, and weep. I humbly ask you, 
kind reader, to pray for the unfortunate, the 
wrecked and ruined, that they may be reclaimed, 



OF AN ILL-SPENT LIFE. 45 

even though late. And if you know any such one 
— one of those whom Victor Hugo terms, not 
as a word of reproach, Les Miserables, or "the 
wTetches," men sunk in poverty and degradation 
through their own vices — I say, if you know r such 
an one and they are everywhere, strive, O ! 
strive to reclaim them ! Even kind words are so 
cheap, so easily spoken, and can do so much. 




CHAPTER VII. 

AS A WRETCHED TRAMP MEET A CHUM WALK TO 

WEATHERFORD PLAY THE DETECTIVES GAME 

FLIRTATION — -RUN AWAY— SWIM THE BRAZOS IN 

THE BACK WOODS MY MAIDEN SPEECH MY 

FRIEND AS SCHOOL TEACHER. 

As I am writing this little book from memory, I 
will not attempt to give any dates. From Whitney 
I wandered on foot as a ragged tramp from town 
to town, Remorse and melancholy looked me 
full in the face, and told me my happy days were 
all gone, and those who had claimed to be the 
friends of my confidence now held me in derision 
and shame. No one seemed to care for me; no one 
cheered me with a kind word. A poor, disconso- 
late, broken-hearted wretch ! I slept at night with 
a lonely rock for my pillow, and no mantle but the 
sky, and dreamed of my sad fate. God help fallen 
humanity ! and may their lives be a warning to 
the rising generation. When you drink you lose 
your money, and when you lose your money you 
lose your friends. In Whitney again I landed, 



OF AN ILL-SPENT LIFE. 47 

and met another one of my old companions whom 
whiskv had ruined. " We will rise from this con- 
dition, or die, Harry," said poor Media, as he 
shook my hand. We traveled together to Weath- 
erford, where we stopped at a Dutch restaurant. 
We told the proprietor that we were detectives, 
and dressed in rags to throw fugitives from justice 
off their guard, but cautioned him to be quiet. He 
faithfully promised to assist us, all in his power. The 
detective trick worked fine. The Dutchman had 
lost a fine horse, which he thought was stolen by his 
wife's divorced husband, who was jealous of him, 
and he w r anted shrewd, disguised detectives like 
us to catch him. The Dutchman bought a keg of 
beer and told us to help ourselves. I will leave it 
to you to guess whether we drank or not. Well, 
no, we didn't drink — w T e poured. We hired a livery 
team and had it charged to the Dutchman. He 
was anxious to get his wife's divorced husband in 
the penitentiary, and w T as willing to make any 
sacrifice for the pleasure of those he thought were 
detectives. We drank and ran with little Dutch 
girls for* two weeks — playing off as detectives in 
disguise. When steamed up I would forget 
all my troubles and played my part well. The 
Dutch girls had read and heard romantic stories 
about how detectives dressed in various styles to 
trip fugitives from justice, and in less than two days 
we were both engaged to get married to the Dutch 



48 UPS AND DOWNS' 



girls, My reader will allow me the sincerity to 
state, that I had no intention of wrongfully deceiv- 
ing an innocent, confiding girl, but under these 
pinching circumstances a little flirtation was not 
only essential to appearances, but to hold the high 
esteem of Dutchman and family, to get something 
to eat, and a place to sleep. I never was a ladies' 
man. At best, I am ugly, and how Rebecca (as 
she was called) took a fancy to me I can not un- 
derstand. It is however, an old and wise axiom 
that " There is no telling about the decision of a 
Justice of the Peace,or the affections of a woman," 
- — I suppose however the detective's story blinded 
her, consequently I will attempt to describe her 
thus. 

Of all the maidens of the land their was none to 
vie with her in beauty. With a low, sweet voice, she 
was fair as the blushing clouds which float in early 
morning across the blue heaven; her golden hair 
flashed a glory from her head dazzling as the rays 
which stream from the sun-lighted sky. A slender 
and symmetrical form, a graceful demeanor and a 
Dutch lisp, she never failed to gladden the hearts 
of all who dwelt within her presence. Oft we 
roamed together as free as the deer upon the 
mountain side. Many a time we wandered beneath 
the branching elms, while the dew drops glistened 
like jewels on the leaves, or sat beneath the ivy 
bowers as the light of evening faded from the sky 






OF AN ILL-SPENT LIFE. 49 



and the blue veil of mist fell upon the sleeping 
hills. Oft I told her of my travels far away, where 
there were all sorts of trees with fruits and flowers; 
where the oranges shone like gold among the dark 
leaves, and great bunches of dates hung from the 
tall palm trees which bowed their heads as if they 
were asleep; about the delicious fragrance from the 
lime groves, and about the many beauties and 
luxuries never seen in America, but which blos- 
som and ripen under the hot sun in Syria. As 
I told of these things I could see from her soft 
eyes that she sighed to become the wife of a Great 
Detective. 

Finally, I became conscientious and told my 
friend I did not care to flirt any longer, that we 
were not only tramps but fugitives from justice, 
and that it would be best to move before we were 
suspected. Before the dawn of day while they all 
were sleeping — while the stars still glimmered in 
the pale light of the morning, we clandestinely stole 
away and left the Dutch family with the " bag to 
hold." Along the valleys, over the hills, through 
the woods, we traveled for eighteen miles and 
came to the banks of the Brazos river. The 
river was partially covered with a thin sheet of ice, 
and our only opportunity to cross was to break the 
ice and swim. A stiff norther was blowing, and it 
was rapidly growing colder. Hesitating for a mo- 
ment only, we undressed, leaped into the cold and 



5G UPS AND DOWNS 

dangerous stream, and safely swam to the opposite 
shore. Before we could dress; our clothing, which 
unfortunately got wet, was frozen. This was hard- 
ship, truly. It seemed more than we could bear. 
"Will it always be thus, Harry?" said my poor 
friend. " I see no light in the future; the way of 
the transgressor is hard," was my only reply. 

On reaching a house, we received (to our sur- 
prise) great kindness from the hand of strangers. 
After warming and thawing our frozen clothing, 
we ate a delightful country supper and spent the 
night with a cultured, pleasant family. There is 
something in every man's face, tact and manners, 
no matter where you find him, to tell not only his 
raising but the warmth of his heart. So we con- 
fided to this gentleman all our misfortunes, con- 
fessed our dissipated career — and offered to work 
on his farm. He deeply sympathized with us, and 
suggested that a school teacher was wanted in the 
neighborhood and he would do his utmost to ob- 
tain the position for one of us. 

This indeed was a back woods country. With 
the exception of the kind family with whom we 
stopped, the people did not know much. The 
trustees of the school however were called to- 
gether and I made my maiden speech. Gener- 
ously, in the outset, I offered the school to my 
friend, stating in my premises that he was more 
scholarly than myself. I amplified on his educa- 



OF AN ILL-SPENT LIFE. 5 1 

tion and morality; claimed to have graduated under 
him in Alabama; and did not believe he had an 
equal as a schoolteacher in the United States; that 
he had spent his life in the school room, and was 
called on for advice from all the wise men of the 
East. -Then I bitterly opposed compulsory edu- 
cation, and thanked God this " was a land of 
freedom;" told about the late cruel and destructive 
war, and the wounds my friend received on the 
dreadful battle field at Chickamauga. Then 
I looked wise and repeated the following on 
liberty: We come to teach you, said I, the hymn 
of liberty, that hymn to which every true Ameri- 
can heart is attuned. 

"A hymn that is as wide as our broad continent, 
and strong as the surges of the Atlantic; that 
sounds in the wild wind that sweeps through the 
pine forest of the north, and sings in the soft 
breezes of the Southern Savannas; that swells with 
the rush of mountain torrents, and sings w T ith 
exultant joy through the .high arches of our sun- 
lighted sky; that is sweet as the ripple of weaves, 
and grand as the roar of Niagara, — the hvmn of 
liberty." 

After I had closed this eloquent discourse, my 
young friend took me aside and said he was afraid 
I had ruined every thing; that the people could 
look at him and tell that he was too young for the 
war, and his appearance and wearing apparel was 



52 UPS AND DOWNS 



too forlorn and ragged for a Professor as I had 
termed him in my address. In fact (he said) I had 
"let the cat out of the bag." But not so, for before 
we returned to the house they had unanimously 
chosen him to take charge of the school at once, 
and enrolled the names of eighteen large girls and 
twelve boys for pupils. Notwithstanding my de- 
plorable condition, I could not help but laugh at 
the ridiculousness of this occasion; and when he 
called the school to order the subsequent Monday 
morning he reminded me of the "Parson >: in Sut 
Lovingood's yarns — he had on a Yankee round- 
about, and koon skin cap with a long tail to it 

M, JlA. JIA. J*. .«£. X J/. 

-7V" W "7V" W *7V" '7V - TV" 

Language here fails me to describe myself. 







CHAPTER VIIL 

TRAM P TRAM P TRAMP. 

I left Weatherforcl, a full-fledged tramp; cold, 
hungry and ill-clothed. The life of a tramp can 
have little interest to my readers, but from what I 
have seen I can make a few novel dissertations. 
The genius "tramp/' can be divided threefold : 
The tramp from necessity, the tramp who will not 
work, and the tramp from pure knavery. To the 
first of these I claim the doubtful distinction of 
belonging. I would not steal, but (and now my 
very soul revolts at the recollection) I was not too 
proud to beg. To what will not whisky bring a 
man? 

Over the hills and vales of Western Texas I 
journeyed. Soon night began to approach. For 
the first few hours I had traveled through an un- 
frequented and uninhabited district; but as twilight 
came, from a hill top I could see manv cottages in 
which hospitable fires already glowed. Descend- 
ing, I pressed forward. Night was upon me when 
I knocked at the nearest farm house, and asked 



54 UPS AND DOWNS 



for shelter. "You will have to ask mother. She 
will let you stay/' said the buxom girl who met me 
at the door. 

"Then please tell your mother to step here." 

" Mother has gone to Squire Sanson's. You 
have to walk down this road and turn to the left. 
It is only a mile and a half. Dad's gone to bed, 
and he's drunk, and don't like strangers/' 

I turned to leave in the freezing night, and had 
not gone more than tw r o hundred paces before a 
shadow swept by me, causing me to look around. 
It was the same girl I had spoken to, and she had 
her apron full of something. 

"Stop," she said, clear out of breath, "take 
this," and she held out her apron. My first act was 
to run my fingers through a pie which she held in 
her apron; then to fill my pockets with biscuit, 
pieces of ham and ginger bread; the kind lass even 
assisting me to put the food away. When I was 
well laden with eatables, she asked me to come 
back, saying her father "would not wake up for 
several hours, that she had to attend to her little 
brother, who had a tube in his breast, until her 
mother returned; that in the meantime I might lie 
by the fire." " I don't know what mother might 
say though," she concluded doubtfully, as she saw 
I was about to yield. 

This decided me. " No," I said, " I will sleep 
in the barn yonder, if you will let me." 



OF AN ILL-SPENT LIFE, 55 



"Wait!" she said, and snatching me by the 
arm shook me heartily, as if to give emphasis 
to her words, "wait till I come back," She was 
off like the wind, leaving me shivering in the north 
wind. Directly she was back with a carpet rug 
and a quilt, " Take these," she said, " I'll get 'em 
in the morning. " 

"God bless vou, my dear," I said, but she w T as 
out of hearing, I went to the barn and found the 
floor half filled with pea vines. It was a struggle to 
get warm, but eventually I did so, and slept, after 
lone and wearv watchino-, lust here I will mention 
something I learned on this trip, which, simple as 
it is, I could never explain. It is this: A man may 
lie down with his coat on, and nearly freeze. Then 
he may take his coat off and cover with it, and 
sleep comfortably even on the bare ground. 

How well I remembered that dreary night in the 
barn ! I had little sleep, and how wretched w T as my 
awakening — for I had been dreaming of better 
days. Long before day I had rolled the bed cloth- 
ing into a bundle, placed it wdiere the girl would 
find it, and made my way by the light of the stars. 
About two hours after daylight, I stopped at a 
farmer's to warm. There I w T as permitted to lie 
upon a bed, ragged as I was, and slept soundly for 
several hours. Then pursuing my journey, I 
arrived at Granburv as the nio-ht fell. 

A traveler's appetite is a thing to be imagined, 



56 UPS AND DOWNS 

not described. Already the lunch that poor girl 
had given me had disappeared, together with the 
pie which carried the impression of my five fingers. 
By way of digression— I truly hope she was able 
to account satisfactorily to her mother for the 
absence of that pie. Poor girl, with a drunken 
father, I could truly pity her then, and since then 
have had the keen pleasure of meeting her. 

Her home had become unbearable, I heard, 
from her father's brutality, and she married a 
young man of the neighborhood. A short time 
after, they came to Gatesville on a trading tour. 
Then I was doing a large dry goods business, and 
had eight clerks. While at my desk, I recognized 
her voice, and went forward at once. She had 
bought all she wanted but a dress. I told her 
much to her surprise that I was not selling goods 
that day but giving them away; and placed a lot 
of silks, velveteens and satins before her to choose 
from. She walked to another counter and chose 
instead of the fine goods, a flaming calico. With 
this I wrapped a dress of satin, and she was very 
grateful — though her husband said he supposed I 
had made enough on the other goods he had 
bought, (about $2.00 worth) to throw in the 
dresses. But I did not make myself known to her. 

The lights of Granbury were twinkling as I 
walked toward the village, and as I have said, I 
was very hungry. Let a man know he has noth- 



OF AN ILL-SPENT LIFE. 5/ 

ing to eat, and can get nothing, and the edge of 
his appetite is as keen as a razor blade. So it was 
with me. I watched the lights of each house as I 
passed, trying as if by intuition to discover where 
I would most likely find food, and what I most 
needed just then, fire. 

Soon I selected a light, in a pretty cottage, and 
had the satisfaction of seeing that the back part of 
the house, evidently the kitchen, was also lighted. 
Thither I bent my shivering steps, and saw through 
the open window a lady's face; getting there just 
in time to get besplattered with dish-water as it 
was thrown. I spoke up quickly. 

"Madam!" 

"Who's there?" 

"Only an unfortunate traveler, Madam. My 
companions have left me, and I would thank you 
to'give me a little something to eat." 

" Who are you, and what are you ? " 

Cold and miserable, I could think of no further 
deception, and told her my name. She had a good 
memory, as the sequel shows. 

"Come up to the window," she said; and I pre- 
sented my unshaven and unkept face to the full 
glare of the light. 

" Mother ! " called a girl from the next room, 
who seemed to be trying to smash all the crockery 
on the premises, " Mother! you know uncle says 
never to feed these vagabonds." 



D DOW 



The lady looked carefully at my face a moment, 
and the scrutiny did not please her. "Get away 
from here, you nasty, dirty tramp ! Get away, I 

say " and she continued her tirade, but I did 

not wait to listen. I was so angry, as well as dis- 
heartened, that it put life in my limbs, and I ran 
through the town and beyond until the last glim- 
mering light had died away in the distance. There 
I was on the bleak prairie, hungry, cold and hope- 
less, only doggedly walking onward, for I knew 
that to stop was to freeze to death. 

A man suffering for food will succumb to cold 
where another with a full stomach can go along 
cheerily enough. So it was with me. Soon I 
beo-an to feel that numbness and drowsiness — in- 
tensified, by abstinence from whisky, and food — 
which I knew to forerun death by freezing. There- 
fore I ran as fast as my benumbed limbs would let 
me, but directly sank to the ground completely 
exhausted and almost resigned to die. 

I had before tried to make a fire out of the few 
sticks I could gather, but failed, and my matches 
were gone. Lying on the ground I made a last 
desperate search and felt a match in my vest lining. 
Tearing the vest open with my teeth, I struck the 
match recklessly. Strangely enough in that howl- 
ing north wind, the weeds caught — then flickered 
— then w T ent out. I covered the embers with my 
hat — again it caught — I piled on weeds. Then, 



OF AN ILL-SPENT LIFE. 59 

all was ablaze; sweeping over the prairie like a 
racer. With it and into it I ran — how far I can- 
not say, until I reached a burning log and stayed 
by it until day. There I watched the fire lighting 
uo the southwest for miles in extent. It destroyed 
$25,000 worth of property — but I didn't freeze. 

Now, if I am permitted to remain to leeward ot 
my log heap a little while before proceeding on my 
travels, I will mention something of a future meet- 
ing I had with Mrs. F., the lady who ordered me 
out in the nio-ht to freeze. No thanks to her if I 
did not, though I did accidentally burn her cattle 
range. 

By the time I was fairly on my feet, and doing 
a heavy dry goods business in Gatesville, Mrs. F. 
had moved to a county adjoining Coryell. With 
her daughter she visited Gatesville, and was 
socially quite popular. At an evening's entertain- 
ment I was introduced to, and recognized her at 
first glance. Could I ever forget that metalic 
voice and the peculiar way she compressed her 
lips. She was a widow T ; still handsome, though 
considerably in the shade of thirty; vain and fond 
of admiration. Intelligent, too, she was; could 
talk well on any subject — was rather bookish. 
Therein was congeniality between us, for while I 
make no literary pretensions, I read closely and 
love to talk of the works of masters. She would 
make me turn her music at the piano by the hour. 



60 UPS AND DOWNS 



I met her often, even at my own home. 

One day she expressed regret that she had not 
met me before. "Why, Madam," said I, "We 
met long ago." 

"Where, Mr. Watkins ?" 

"In Granbury." 

" Bless me ! Where was it ? At Judge F's or 
Mr. C's?" and she volubly ran over a dozen names. 

"No, it was at your own house that I met you." 

"What! At my house! Surely you jest, Mr. 
Watkins. Who introduced you, pray?" she asked 
half jestingly, thinking me in the same humor. 

" Madam, you introduced yourself." 

"Introduced myself?" 

"Indeed you did. A pan of dish-water in my 
face I considered a very forcible introduction." 

"I don't understand you, Mr. Watkins." 

"I understood you, Mrs. F., when you ordered 
me off in the freezing night. Don't you remember 
ordering- off a tramo who looked in your back win- 
dow one winter night?" 

"You astonish me, Sir. Surely that couldn't 
have been you— You! I never shall believe it." 

" It was me, Mrs. F., yet I cannot blame you. 
But I beg you to believe that I had the same 
heart in me then that I have now. We often 
mistake the unfortunate." # # # # 

It would be wearisome to the reader if I re- 
counted all the hardships I had to endure before 






OF AN ILL-SPENT LIFE. 6 1 

I reached Gatesville; but all things have an end; 
even life and suffering - . 

On a Sabbath evening I arrived in sight of my 
village home. Being ashamed of my rags and 
degradation, I waited in the suburbs for darkness 
to overshadow the earth. Seating myself upon a 
larp-e rock bv the side of a little stream where I 
had often sat under different circumstances, all 
seemed to me like a dream. On this very rock I 
had carved my name, and here, also, was the name 
of the fairest in all the land, whose hand and heart 
I won. Ah, then, I was happy as the sun-beams 
which gild the fields. Life was like an unbroken 
summer to me. But now I was beset with pitfalls; 
with prowling beasts and hissing serpents. The 
green foliage of the high hills around my once 
happy home had withered and gone. To me, 
stricken homeless and alone, the smiling valleys 
and lovely plains were as solemn midnight. Sud- 
denly I heard a buggy approaching — a lady and 
gentleman out riding. Ah! that voice, that laugh, 
I remembered well. She had called me in days 
gone forever, the (< Prince of Manhood;" but 
swiftly both pass me by. They know not the 
drunken begg-ar now. Soon all grew dark and 
silent, broken only by the song of the brook; as it 
glided over its pebbled bottom. With feeble limbs 
and tattered clothing, I staggered into town. There 
was a name over the door where I had merchandised. 



CHAPTER IX. 

IN GATESVILLE AGAIN- — BETTER TIMES BREAK MY 

OATH CHRISTIAN SUPPORT- — TPIE SABBATH BELLS 

DELIRIUM AND ITS HORRORS- — AN AWFUL NIGHT 

BLOOD HOUNDS ON MY TRACK— IN THE DARK LEAVE 

- — CARRIED BACK TO TOWN— SYMPATHY PAW^N MY 

COAT A GENTLEMAN'S PHILANTHROPY- — HOME, 

SWEET HOME. 

I slept in a vacant store. But fortune sometimes 
will relent for a season. The next day two gen- 
tlemen went my security for a suit of clothing. I 
burnt my old tramp rags, and again presented a 
respectable appearance. A kind lady gave me 
some food and a place to sleep. 

I stood my trial, the penalty was reduced to a 
heavy fine and paid by my mother. Then I en- 
gaged in the business of collecting accounts, and 
spent most of my time riding in the country, to 
avoid the temptations of town. But I was des- 
tined to fall. Going into town a little fellow per- 
suaded me to drink. " I can drink when I please 
or let it alone. Whisky don't hurt me. My daddy 



OF AN ILL-SPENT LIFE. 63 

kept it on the sideboard/' and like expressions 
have sent many noble men to drunkard's graves. 
My ravenous appetite for strong drink induced me 
to listen, and before I was aware I was drunk 
again. My oath that I would drink no more, was 
on record in the Countv Clerk's office, and I had 
some regard for my word; but an oath without 
Christian support amounts to little in the face of 
this terrible temptation. In my life I have tried 
many antidotes for drink. They amount to noth- 
ing; but if Christian people will lend a helping 
hand, a kind word, to raise a fallen brother; pray 
for him, preach to him Jesus and Him crucified I 
believe he will ultimately be saved. Once I saw 
a drunkard fall down the steps of a St. Louis hotel 
A man in clerical dress standing by, laughed in 
derision at him and said: "No drunkard shall 
enter the kingdom of Heaven." "You are a con- 
temptible hypocrite/' said I; "this drunkard may 
be in Heaven while you howl in Hell." 

The three weeks succeeding this first day's de- 
bauch I will not attempt to describe, for but few 
of the events of these miserable days dwell in my 
memory. Constantly, night and day, was I drunk. 
But one Sunday morning a faint glimmer of reason, 
a sense of my condition, came to me. I resolved 
within myself to get sober or die. Perhaps it was 
the sound of the Sabbath bells that made this 
resolution strong. Who has not felt a flood of 



64 UPS AND DOWNS 



recollections rush upon him — recollections of 
home, childhood, innocent days, when listening to 
these solemn bells? I walked two miles before 
eating, to gain an appetite and keep away from 
the saloon. When I returned everything I at- 
tempted to eat or drink tasted alike. I went to a 
physician, obtained some medicine to quiet my 
nerves, and then went to sleep. 

I awoke with delirium tremens. Where I was I 
knew not, and no one was there to care for me. 
In frenzied imagination I saw a brigade of soldiers 
riding at full speed around the house. Their 
horses were of colossal size and red as blood, and 
fire streamed from their nostrils. They drew at 
once a thousand swords, and shrieked out: "We'll 
crucify him! Crucify him!" Dreadfully alarmed, 
with a fear that sanity knows not, I looked across 
the street to call the neighbors to my aid. But 
these ghostly soldiers, more real than reality itself; 
were over there loudly calling for ." Watkins." In 
desperation I drew my knife for defense. As I did 
so a large black, sleek Devil, with a red mouth, 
stood at the door. He said he would take me 
back to the Fort Worth jail. At him I rushed 
with my open knife, but he struck me down with 
his awful paw. 

Then, in reality, I ran out of the house into the 
night and fled for my life, followed, as I thought, 
by devils and soldiers, all shrieking on my track, 



OF AN ILL-SPENT LIFE. 65 

as I fled like the wind. The superhuman strength 
of a madman was upon me, and I ran for several 
hours. I waded the Leon river; the water came 
up to my neck — it was swift and dangerous — and 
across, I continued my headlong flight. I heard 
a thousand blood-hounds on my track. Looking 
back I could see their fiery eyes, their tongues 
hanging out and dripping blood, as they rushed 
after me. They seemed to be gaining on me. Up 
rushes one of the monsters and leaps at my throat. 
With a desperate effort I hurled him from me, at 
the same time falling to the ground, and leaping 
up and away just as the whole demoniacal pack 
were about to spring upon me. Faster, still faster, 
I fled, mortal terror in possession of all my facul- 
ties. I could hear the fiends cheering on their 
hounds. Occasionallv a bullet would strike me in 
the head, but only urged me to greater speed. 
Finally I saw a dark wood before me. Turning 
from the road I rushed into the thicket, the brush 
and brambles tearing my flesh and clothing, and 
saw the hounds and fiends with torches rush down 
the road and disappear. Looking back at that hor- 
rible night, I sometimes wonder, was I in reality 
chased by wolves in that mad, delirious flight ? I 
cannot tell; and such solution must appear incred- 
ible to others, as well as to myself. 

Wandering through the thick woods, I saw them 
searching for me with torches. I came to the 



66 UPS AND DOWNS 



bank of a ravine, and under it found a cave, into 
which I crept. Dark as pitch it w^as, yet I could 
see lizards and creeping insects about me; all in- 
tent on biting. So I left the cave in affright, and 
after wandering several hours, found myself just 
after day-break at a negro cabin, seven miles from 
Gatesville. My clothing was nearly torn off, and 
my flesh pierced in many places — truly I was in a 
deploratle condition. Word was sent from the 
cabin, and Luther Allen came and took me back 
to town. 

He procured a bed at the hotel for me, and I 
took medicine to quiet my overstrained nerves, 
and again went to sleep. That afternoon Jerry 
Chittum called and did everything in his power 
for me. Then I really needed some whisky, for 
when a man has delirium tremens the only relief is 
the poison that produced it. Jerry gave me a few 
toddies, which strengthened mv mind, and I 
realized what was the matter. The liquor helped 
me much temporarily. At bedtime Chittum gave 
me an anodyne under the direction of a physician, 
and left me, as he thought, much better, but at 
midnight I awoke from horrible dreams 10 find the 
room full of jay birds. I tried to reason with my- 
self that this was all imagination and had about 
become satisfied with that solution, when the birds 
flew at me all together, pecking at my eyes and 
face. Out of bed I sprang, opened the door and 



OF AN ILL-SPENT LIFE. 6/ 

ran into the street. But the face of the earth was 
covered with white rabbits, and every time I 
moved I would step on a white rabbit, and it 
would bite my ankles. I ran to a light across the 
square and into a saloon. The usual crowd was 
congregated there. They thought it was funny to 
see a "drunken dog" w T ith the jim-jams. Totally 
crazed, I told them about the white rabbits, and 
implored their protection, and they all laughed — 
naturally enough. 

To differ with my fellow T -man in religion or poli- 
tics and still shake him by the hand, is easy for 
me; I can pardon him with whom I have had the 
most serious difficulty; I can sleep with an oppon- 
ent after a heated political debate — such should be 
the nature of everyone, for, truly, the most con- 
temptible wretch on the face of the earth is the 
man who has no sense of sympathy. He is a 
crawling reptile whose venom exudes as he creeps, 
polluting all he touches. Into such a man God 
has breathed none of his spirit; and when I see a 
man like this, I look upon him -as a Cain — a 
marked creature for whom repentance is almost 
impossible, and for whom is reserved black- 
ness and darkness forever. But, sympathy ! What 
a word is there ! Give me not pity — I would scorn 
it — but sympathy; sympathy is the grandest word 
in the English vocabulary. It is indicative of in- 
nate refinement; self-evident of learning; more 



68 UPS AND DOWNS 



generous than philanthropy, and sweeter than 
liberty itself. As an Angel of Mercy, it visits the 
abodes of wretchedness; relieves despair, com- 
forts the sick and dying. In the spirit of genero- 
sity it never condemns, but is always ready to 
laugh with the joyous and weep with the sorrow- 
ful. Will my readers forgive the digression ? 

Well, the men who had lived in part at my 
expense; had borrowed my money and drank my 
whisky, now laughed at my miserable, depraved 
condition. Then I pawned my coat, to a man who 
owed almost his existence to me, for a drink. But 
as I lifted it to my mouth a white rat sprang out of 
the glass, and I hurled the poison at it as it scamp- 
ered away. There are good people in this world, 
however. Finally a gentleman took me to his 
home, where I remained for two weeks under the 
influence of opiates. During this period I dream- 
ed all over the United States, was everywhere in 
mad imagination, from Heaven to hell. One even- 
ing as I lay recovering from this miserable de- 
bauch in my lonely chamber, a lady visitor played 
on the piano and sang, " Home, Sweet Home." 
Well do I remember how the burning tears poured 
from my eyes as I listened, for in all my wander- 
ings and miseries the home of my boyhood and 
kindred had ever been near mv heart. 

I knew myself all that was low; a drunkard, a 
castaway; the cold hut of poverty for my future 



OF AN ILL-SPENT LIFE. 



6 9 



dwelling place, and only the bread of affliction, to 
be eaten with tears, before me. God help you, 
young man, to abstain from drink, is my feeble but 
fervent prayer 




CHAPTER X. 

MAKE A FORTUNE PAY MY DEBTS RESTORE CONFID- 
ENCE AND CREDIT REPURCHASE THE OLD HOME 

BUILD A LARGER RESIDENCE RETURN PAST FAVORS 

- — HUMAN NATURE AVERAGE ADVICE PROSPER- 
OUS THREE YEARS TAKE A DRINK — SPENT A 

THOUSAND IN ONE NIGHT STUDY LAW REMORSE 

—BANKRUPT, 

From this miserable debauch I began to re- 
cover, but for a month could scarcely walk around. 
God pity the six hundred thousand inebriates to- 
day. Christian people, fly to the rescue of fallen 
men and women. Visit the lonely prison cells and 
find there the felons — shackled . by the fetters of 
dishonor — and give them only a word of consola- 
tion—ask him net the cause of his downfall, for it 
is too late; he may have taken his fate in his own 
hands and with his own voice bade the goddess 
take her flight — but ask him not of these things, 
for he nad a mother who may have died when he 
was a child and left him to find sustenance from 
the cold hands of strangers. The Nazarene went 



OF AN ILL-SPENT LIFE. /I 

among sinners, and wept over Jerusalem, because 
she "would not;" the angels rejoiced when the 
thief on the cross repented, and there are thou- 
sands of prodigals in Heaven, washed in the blood 
of the Lamb. 

I owed some twenty thousand dollars; but with 
regaining strength I soon began to accumulate. 
Riding horseback through the country, I collected 
claims, traded in stock, and engaged in various 
speculations. Hope burned bright within me; and 
I trusted to regain once more the confidence and 
esteem of my fellow-men. Strange as it may seem, 
seven months later, I succeeded in discharging 
the last farthing of my indebtedness, and had a 
few thousand dollars remaining. One of my inti- 
mate friends insisted that I should again try the 
mercantile business. Taking his advice, I boarded 
the cars for New Orleans to make my purchases. 
Arriving in the "Cresent City," I registered at 
the St. Charles Hotel, and in company with several 
gentlemen frequently attended the theatre. They 
invited me to " take a little for the stomach's 
sake," but I refused, (as one drop would have 
ruined me) and played to perfection the part of an 
innocent, moral young man from the country. 

Like other new merchants I needed some ac- 
commodation, and it was essential to my financial 
success to w r alk in the paths of rectitude. I had 
no trouble in obtaining a ten thousand dollar line 



J2 UPS AND DOWNS 



of credit from a first-class house; and returned 
home. There for the second time I proudly be- 
held my name written in large gold letters over a 
fifty foot front store. Then I repurchased and 
renovated the same residence I had wasted in de- 
bauchery. 

Customers flocked in from all over the country, 
and soon I was enabled to return the many favors 
extended me while in destitute circumstances. It 
is said that in the hardest heart and least reflective 
mind there is a tender spot. I do think that my 
heart (and head) grew softer when prosperity came 
to me. My resless, fickle nature caused me much 
trouble, but with those faults I had the predomin- 
ating qualities of gratitude and sympathy; and 
never failed to return kindness ten-fold; to feed 
the hungry and clothe the naked. Meeting my 
obligations promptly, I soon increased my business 
to a mammoth dry goods establishment, with a 
score of clerks. 

The reader may suppose me a hard man to get 
along with, and perhaps hard on those in my em- 
ploy, but not so. In my drunkest hours I have 
treated them with the greatest kindness. In the 
main, I have only mal-treated myself — no one else. 
A little child can control or lead me anywhere, 
though when steeped in liquor I will slip away like 
a thief in the night to get a drink. 

Selecting a beautiful site in the suburbs of our 



or AN ILL-SPENT LIFE. 73 

little town, I reared upon it a more commodious 
residence. I can truly say that my house was 
always open to the homeless and poor. I never 
refused to assist anyone that I remember; they 
owe me now, and I never intimate it. The boys 
called me '"Colonel," and the preachers called me 
"Brother." Money will arrange matters. A few 
evenings 1 got a little "full," but was carried to 
the country and it was kept a profound secret. 
Money is a great commodity* and property is quite 
a convenience. 

Every career has its aspirants, who pay their 
respects to those who have reached the goal; there 
is not a power without its following, not a fortune 
without its court. The seekers for the future buzz 
round the splendid present. Every Metropolitan 
has his stuff. 

Victor Hugo said— "Success is a very hideous 
thing, and its resemblance with merit deceives 
men. For the herd, success has nearly the same 
profile as supremacy. Success, that Maecenas of 
talent, has a dupe in history, and Tacitus and 
Juvenal alone grumble at it. In our days an 
almost official philosophy wears the livery of suc- 
cess, and waits in its ante-room. Succeed, that is 
the theory, for prosperity presupposes capacity." 
Win in the lottery and you are a clever man, for 
he who triumphs is revered. All you want is to 
be born under a fortunate star. Have luck and you 



74 UPS AND DOWNS 



will have the rest, be fortunate and you will be 
thought a great man, leaving out five or six im- 
mense exceptions, which form the lustre of an age, 
'* contemporary admiration is blear-eyedness." 

Why should a little property attract so much 
popularity, for the same heart is within a man still ? 
I have never been wealthy, but several times have 
enjoyed a sufficient independence to form a fair 
idea of human nature, and it is amusing to see 
people fall in w T ith the tide. Many do good things 
to be seen. Many wait for the popular side. 
Talent seldom fills the highest position. Webster, 
Clay and Calhoun could never be President, be- 
cause regardless of consequences or public opinion, 
they fully expressed their convictions. Talent 
never triumphs in the social circle without the 
means to maintain it. The world wants to help us 
when least we need it. How often have I heard 
the father proffer to help his son, provided he suc- 
ceeded in business. If successful he would need 
no help. The advice we receive is in strict accord 
with circumstances, and is often amusing. For 
instance, the best advice I ever received was from 
a bar-keeper just after I had spent all my money; 
when I w r as "dead busted," and he saw no chance 
to make any more out of me. Most graphically, 
eloquently, and pathetically he advised me not to 
drink. The hotel man didn't think I was hungry, 
and advised me not to eat. The merchant advised 



OF AN ILL-SPENT LIFE. 75 

me to practice close economy and wear my old 
clothes. The barber didn't think I needed a 
shave; the doctor was afraid to give me physic; 
and the minister thought it best to wait awhile be- 
fore I joined the church. But after I made this 
little raise, I was advised to drink, eat, wear clothes, 
take medicine, profess religion, and join the 
church immediately. 

Prosperity, happiness, and average sobriety 
blessed me for nearly three years. Then I began 
to argue with myself that I was a mighty man and 
could take an occasional drink. This idea in the 
spring of '84 started me downward again. Revel- 
ing with the wine-bibbers, I often would not reach 
mv room until two in the morning; and sometimes 
not at all. Why I did so, is perhaps more of a 
mystery to me, than to my readers. 

Suicide is horrible and strange. Eminent phy- 
sicians claim that a man will not commit suicide 
unless insane, but which is preferable; which is 
the most sensible ? To take life in a second, or 
with a calm, cool, and sedate mind, to drink from 
the cup of sorrow — to take your own health, wealth, 
reputation and hope of Heaven, and then with 
aching head, trembling nerves and parched tongue, 
suffer the horrors of the damned. I cannot tell — 
though some of our brightest minds have been 
crazed by dissipation. The aged widow tells of a 
home once dear and beautiful, until intemperance 



f6 U-PS AND DOWNS 



with ruthless hand had torn down the tender vine 
of affection which entwined itself around and over 
her cottage door. Then let us go in agony to the 
hospital and listen to the wail of insanity, and we 
will learn from incoherent utterances that more 
than half its inmates are driven there by intemper- 
ance. 

The philanthropist goes into the street; out in 
the cold, on a bleak, freezing night in December. 
Finding the lonely orphan, she tenderly presses it 
to her bosom. The eves of the fatherless and 
motherless waif, fill with tears, and her heart swells 
almost to breaking as she tries to say — but cannot 
say — that her parents died from intemperance. 

It seems that home to the poor inebriate is a 
prison. There is no air there that he can breathe. 
For a moment he may sport with his children, and 
smile upon his wife, but his heart is made up to 
return after supper for his night's rum. He may 
have wealth and fame, but whisky will curse him 
and bring his family to poverty. 

Flushed with wine, my restless nature led me to 
New Orleans, where in one night's dissipation I 
wasted about one thousand dollars. This might 
have been funny to my crazed brain, and certain 
sycophantic by-standers for the time, but it was a 
step downward, nearer hell. Returning home, 
however, I partially sobered for ninety days; stu- 
died law; and applied through the two Texas 



OF AN ILL-SPENT LIFE. Jf 

Senators for a position in the Consular service. 
Doubtless I might have filled a position, had it 
not been for reasons most horrible — of which you 
will read in subsequent chapters. 

Fallen again! O! my God, pity me! and if it be 
thy will, that man must suffer temporal evil here, 
impose it upon me. Let the wasting hand of 
disease inflict its painful torments; but save! O, 
save me ! from the dreadful fate of a drunkard. 




CHAPTER XI. 

NIGHT AT WACO— FROM TEXAS TO NEW YORK ON A 

SPREE-— DREADFUL FOREBODING IN ST. LOUIS • 

PUT OFF THE CARS— HOME— DELIRIUM TREMENS. 

Leaving Gatesville upon Dec. 18, 1884, I 
started with Washington City as my aim. I left 
with $5,500 in my pocket, wishing that I might 
profitably invest this amount of my property. 
Reaching St Louis I had enough reason left to 
know that my condition would not recommend me 
to Senators and Representatives, through whose 
influence I hoped, with good cause, to obtain a 
diplomatic station. So I went to New York to get 
sober. But this was only throwing a firebrand into 
the fire. Half crazed, I started back to St. Louis; 
stopped a day in Indianapolis, where I have an 
indistinct recollection of attending Vice-President 
Hendricks' funeral. I thrust myself violently for- 
ward; even leaning upon the vault, and wondered 
why a young lady in black who stood only a few 
paces away should weep so violently. I started 



OF AN ILL-SPENT LIFE. 79 

forward to console and ask the cause of her grief, 
but happily a policeman prevented this interrup- 
tion of the mournful ceremony, and led me away. 

Next I found myself on the train bound 
for St. Louis. Here I found my money grow T less, 
day by day, but with enthusiastic recklessness I 
kept up the debauch; comforting myself with the 
historical thought in brief intervals of reason: 
<{ After this the delude." 

Before I was aware my money was gone and my 
jolly companions as well. This was the beginning 
of sin, for there is nothing so sinful in the world's 
eyes as a moneyless man drinking; while he has 
money, the fault is condoned. The beginning of 
sin is bright as the fair morning, but the closing 
of sin is as the darkness of night. " I met the 
sinful spirit with her wand. She waved — and it 
was all enchantment. It seemed as if the angels of 
God had poured out phials of sweet perfume in the 
atmosphere. But when she changed her wand, 
what a dreadful picture did sin present ! The 
melody of music changed to the shriek of agony 
and the w r ail of insanity. 

I possessed a watch and chain which cost $250. 
Soon they were in the coffers of the proprietor of 
a gilded rum shop. Surreptitiously I began to 
carry my clothing from my room in the hotel to 
•pawn shops, and, sinking socially with my means, 
began to patronize the lowest dives, where the 



8o UPS AND DOWNS 



vilest decoctions were sold. But who will venture 
to say that the purest of alcoholic potations is not 
more poisonous than Prussic acid, since it kills 
soul as well as body ? At the marbles-floored 
saloons, where I had changed my fifties and twen- 
ties the bar-keepers began to advise me to "sober 
up," which meant that it takes money to buy 
Whisky. So, also, when my clothing was gone, the 
dive-keepers began to say this too, which, while: 
hot so elegantly spoken, meant one and the same 
thing. 

Penniless, helpless, drunken and alone in at 
great city; wearing summer clothing in the bitter 
wintry weather, what could be worse ? But more 
horrible still than wandering half-frozen through 
the streets, was my enforced abstinence from 
liqtior. I had drawn on every friend I had who 
would honor my drafts, but these drafts began to 
return, and I was left with only this agonizing 
thirst. Whisky began to taste like water; appar- 
ently ceased to affect me. Worse than physical 
tortures, then there came upon me a mental hallu- 
cination, a mortal dread, which pursued me day 
and night. The idea that I had committed some 
dreadful crime was ever with me, causing me to 
Stand, shivering in a doorway, Or lying under a 
bridge until night came and I could steal to my 
accustomed dives. Furthermore, I could remem- 
ber distinctly having committed these crimes. I 



OF AN ILL-SPENT LIFE. 8 1 

could remember well having committed murder in 
Texas. To show how horribly circumstantial 
these hallucinations can be, I seemed to remember 
perfectly having killed two men, and strangled a 
child to keep it from giving the alarm; could see 
the blue marks upon its throat The conscious- 
ness of this crime being firmly fixed upon my 
mind, they began to multiply. Then I had com- 
mitted forgery, and the victims were searching 
through St. Louis for me. The sight of a police- 
man gave me a rigor at once. With only a bottle 
for a companion, I lay hidden under an acqueduct 
bridge for one whole day. I can remember w r ell 
how I reproached myself there for the murders I 
had committed; how I tried to find some excuse 
for my crime, but could think of none. Finally, I 
convinced myself that I had committed the murders 
while drunk, and this added to my distress, for I 
knew it no excuse in law. 

When I finally did leave my lurking place at 
night, I could hear voices calling me around every 
street corner. '" Yonder he goes; we've grot him," 
called out a voice at the corner of 6th street. 
Then I knew that I was lost, thought my pursuers 
had me surrounded and were only mocking and 
playing with me, knowing they had me safe. Al- 
ternately, I cursed and begged them, and, I think, 
nearly frightened a worthy citizen to death by 
clutching him by the coat and demanding if he 



82 UPS AND DOWNS 



had come from Texas to arrest me. He left me at 
great speed. 

It was then that I determined to go to the 
police station; confess my crimes, and ask to be 
sent back to Texas. Overtaking a policeman, I 
poured some incoherent tale in his ear, begging 
that he would not let me be lynched, He paid 
sufficient attention to take me to the station forth- 
with. There the Captain (McManns) closely in- 
terrogated me. I thought I told a straight story 
about the murder, and made some ridiculous excuse 
for it; and could not understand why the officers 
grouped about me laughed so heartily. Besotted 
and crazed as I was, I could yet understand that 
some of the questions they asked were absurd. 
For instance, one of them asked "if I had stolen 
Charley Ross;" to which I eagerly answered, 
"yes," not comprehending the question. The 
group began to disperse, and I was much sur- 
prised to find myself neither chained nor hand- 
cuffed. I went to one of the officers and asked if 
my cell w T as ready; that I was tired. Heansw T ered 
roughly, then # looking at me again, gave me a 

quarter, and bade me "go to h 1." I walked 

away. 

'/f -5r -tt w -Jr 'Jv 1 -Jr w -7r 

One bleak night late in December, as a passen- 
ger train pulled out of St. Louis, I boarded the 
rear platform of the sleeper. My condition indeed 



OF AN ILL-SPENT LIFE. 8 



was pitiful. With ragged and threadbare clothing 
I shivered in the cold and rode for several hours 
unnoticed. Crazed from a long spree a thousand 
hallucinations came upon me. Often now I think 
of that dreadful night and wonder how I lived. 
On being discovered by the porter about one 
o'clock in the morning I was disgracefully put off, 
and left at a little switch. Dark and dreary as it 
was I followed the track crossing frozen bridges 
and dangerous places. 

All that I could see had an attitude of terror, 
for how many things shuddered beneath the mighty 
breath of night ! The cold pierced me for I had 
eaten nothing for several days. I vaguely recalled 
mv other nights of horror, on the plains in Texas 
five years before, and it seemed to me but yester- 
day. 

The most frightful thoughts crossed my mind 
" pell-mell." There are moments when hideous 
suppositions assail us like a brand of furies, and 
violently force the bolts of our brains. 

On seeing a cottage house lighted a few hun- 
dred yards from the road, I bent my feeble seeps 
thither. Through the illuminated window I could 
see the blazing fire. A table was laid with eatables 
in the middle of the room. At this table was 
seated a man with hearty open face of about forty 
years of age, who was riding a child on his knee. 
By his side a woman still young was suckling an- 



84 UPS AND DOWNS 



other child. The father was laughing, the chil- 
dren were laughing, and the mother was smiling. 
I stood for a moment before this calm and gentle 
spectacle, and thought this joyous house would 
prove hospitable, I tapped very slightly on the 
door, but was not heard; a second time and heard 
the woman say, " Husband, I fancy I hear some 
one knocking." 

"No," the husband answered. I tapped a third 
time. The husband rose, took the lamp and 
walked to the front cloot. He was a tall man, as 
he threw back his head, his turned down shirt col- 
lar displayed his full neck, white and bare. He 
had thick eyebrows, enormous black whiskers, a 
bull-dog lower jaw, and over all an air of being at 
home, which is inexpressible. 

"I beg your pardon sir, but I am cold and weary, 
aud would like a cup of coffee, I said in a doubtful, 
trembling voice. 

Who are you ? the owner of the cottage asked. 

I am Harry Watkins. I was put off the cars 
at the switch and — . Before I could finish the 
sentence, the man placed the lamp on a table and 
took down his gun. His wife arose with the 
two children in her arms, and hurriedly sought re- 
fuge behind her husband, and looked in horror at 
me as she muttered, The Villain ! All this took 
place in less time than is needed to imagine it. 
After gazing at me f^r a moment as if I had been 



OF AN ILL-SPENT LIFE. 85 

a viper, he returned to the door and said: "Be 
off!" 

For mercy's sake, I continued, a glass of water, 

■" A charge of shot," the man answered. Then 
he violently closed the door, and I heard the bolts 
fastened. A moment afterwards the shutters were 
closed, and I was out in the dark, worn out with 
fatigue and hopeless. I walked a few steps and 
sat down. I made up my mind to die, though I 
did not know where I was, not even could I have 
told the name of the State in which I was. 

An icy breeze was blowing, and imparted to the 
dismal darkness a sort of mournful life. Tke 
bushes shook their little thin arms with incredible 
fury; they seemed to be threatening and pursuing 
me. 

About dav break I reached a small village. The 
first beacon light was from a saloon; like the flv 
that sings around the candle " I dropped in." While 
thawing my frozen limbs a liberal young man en- 
gaged in conversation with me. Evidently he was 
up after his early dram but had not yet gone to 
degradation. Gladly however I accepted his in- 
vitations to drink and spent the day in the saloon. 
I do not remember the name of this village. In 
fact I do not remember whether or not I inquired, 
but have a faint recollection of being told that the 
R. R. terminus was Cairo, 111., and clandestinely 
stole a ride in a stock car to the place. Notwith- 



86 UPS ANt> ftOWSfS' 



standing the rough riding, and cold weather, I fell 
asleep in the empty stock car on the way and 
awoke in Cairo the following morning. 

Fortune seemed how to change a little. I met 
on the stfeefs of Cairo a tried and true friend "Alf 
Williams,'' Who loaned nle Che money to buy a 
stilt of clothes and a ticket to Gatesville, Texas, 
1 really thought I Was a murderer on the dodge, 
and told Williams an incredible story^thotigh he 
fully understood that I was guilty of nothing but 
debauchery and treated me like a brother. Kind 
reader, you will allow me to add that in all my 
Ups and Downs I never was guilty of murder or 
accused of dishonesty. This was only imagina- 
tion, or an illusion caused by long and excessive 
use of stimulants. 

Arriving home in January I continued this hor- 
rible debauch; I Was now in debt to a great many 
friends, and they appeared disgusted with me, at 
least, I felt very sensitive of my condition, for in 
addition to the five thousand dollars 1 left home 
With, I had borrowed from various acquaintances 
about the same amount and saw no opportunity of 
returning it. This spree cost me the loss of health, 
hortifej happiness, friends and ten thousand dollars 
tash.. Deeply troubled I Could not bear to sober, 

In addition to many personal debts 1 owed sixty 
thousand dollars and had nothing. Restless, ner- 
vous, afraid of, — God knows what — I concluded 



OF AN ILL-SPENT LIFE. 87 

to go to Belton, Texas, and when I turned my 
back to walk to the depot I wept like a child, but 
soon was sufficiently intoxicated to be somewhat 
exhilarated, and spent the first night in Moody, 
Texas, at Jim Christian's hotel; and then came 
woe and sorrow and despair. When I retired I 
heard the devils around the house discussing as to 
what they would do with me. Some wanted to 
cut my throat, some hang me, while others per- 
sisted in shooting me. Through the window I 
could see them on grey horses as large as elephants, 
and they all had on tall hats with fire in them; and 
then I heard the click of a thousand guns, and 
they told me if I moved they would murder me. 
I screamed and jumped from my bed, but Chris- 
tian and others persuaded me nothing was the 
matter, gave me a dose of morphine and told me to 
go to sleep. Remember, while this was hallucina- 
tion still it appeared real to me; and then under 
the influence of morphine the devils went away — 
the room was intensely lit up by a thousand elec- 
tric burners, and was filled with beautiful angels, 
and, in my imagination, I flew into an unknown 
world, a door flashed open in Heaven, and I 
walked the streets of the New Jerusalem. I saw 
its pearly gates, and a great white throne, and the 
scenery there was more delightful than human 
tongue can tell. On the right side of the street I 
beheld a beautiful green park, with all kinds of 



88 UPS AND BOWK'S - • 

delectable fruits and sweet perfumed roses. Then 
the angel of love took me by the hand, and wel- 
comed me to Paradise, and brought a snowy white 
garment for me to wear, and placed in my hands 
the harp of a thousand strings; but my delight was 
interrupted by a great giant, who suddenly ap- 
peared and denounced me as an impostor. He 
said he saw me drink in St. Louis, which I denied 
as bitterly as even Simon Peter denied his ac- 
quaintance with his Master, but he led me away 
from heaven and opened a door a mile square, and 
then I fell into the bottomless pits of hell, with 
millions of devils to pour hot lava upon me, I 
trembled and begged, and plead for death; but 
they told me no one died there— that I must en- 
dure this for eternity. 

With morning, I realized my condition, and did 
not think I could possibly live, but I succeeded 
in drinking a pint of whisky, which gave me a 
little strength, and again I started for Belton, 
There I met an old friend, Harry Bradford. I 
told him of my wretched condition— that I had 
been drunk six months, and, at his suggestion, 
took three drinks at the Buck Horn saloon, and 
started to the theatre, which he thought would be 
a relief to my mind, which was so much impaired 
from alcohol, and there I saw double— every man, 
woman and child had two heads and four large, 
green eyes, and they all gave me a death-like 



OF AN ILL-SPENT LIFE. 89 

stare in the face. I ran from the theatre out on 
the streets. Out in the darkness I reflected for a 
moment that this was an apparition, went into a 
saloon, and called for a drink, but, as I lifted the 
vile stuff to my lips, a frog sat on the glass and 
spat in my face. I threw dow r n the whisky and 
ran to my room, but found a corpse lying on my 
bed. On looking around, the room was crowded 
with devils of every description, with whom I 
fought and struggled for life all night and after I 
had gained sufficient strength to walk around I 
could hear people talk about me on every corner. 
As I would pass a voice would cry out, " That's 
him, now!" And then I thought I cannot go home 
— I am ashamed — -I cannot stay here — I am a 
stranger. The accursed stuff has ruined me. Oh, 
that 1 were dead! Oh, that I had died before I 
had fallen, and were sleeping in the cold grave, 
where my sister lies ! 

I walked my lonely room with an agony which 
only the poor drunkard's heart knows when it first 
awakens .to remorse, and when it looks despair 
full in the face and feels its hideous incantations 
tempting him to suicide. I went to Lam pasas, 
and as I walked into the Globe hotel, cold pers- 
piration poured from me, and I was too nervous 
to register my name. I retired to my room, and 
thought of taking my life — to end such a miserable 
existence, but I did not have even a penknife. 



QO UPS AND DOWNS 



Then I thought of some acts of kindness I had 
bestowed upon my fellow-man, but something- 
told me that was all forgotten— I was a traitor to 
my friends— an old drunken dog. Then I kneeled 
to pray, and then I promised my God if He would 
pardon my sins and bring back my once happy 
days, I would tell my tale of woe, of sorrow, for 
the benefit of my fellow-man. 




CHAPTER XII. 

fawning jewelry- — the bottle trick- — play re- 
venue detective- — the green bar tender- 
introduced as governor of tennessee- — fond- 
ness for joking' — in philadelphia without a 

dollar a free ride- — how the young are de- 

coyed- — the hand which putteth a bottle to 
a neighbor's lips. 

If the reader will allow a little digression, I 
would speak of what whisky has caused me to lose 
— and will cause others to lose— besides self- 
respect and the respect of others. Something, too, 
I would say about the tricks and wiles the victim 
will resort to in order to get the poison, I have 
parted with several watches and rings, and other 
trinkets innumerable, but, with the exception of 
two gold rings, I never pawned any of my relatives' 
jewelry. I have played tricks to get liquor, such 
as filling a bottle with water, and calling for a fac 
simile bottle of whisky. When the bar-keeper 
would quarrel and call for the money or liquor 
back, I would hand him from my other pocket the 



Q2 UPS AND DOWNS 



water, and leave him none the wiser. Several 
years ago the "bell punch" law was in effect, 
which was ringing a bell after each drink sold. It 
was an imposition, as they did not ring the bell 
one time in a hundred. 

Finding a green bar-tender in a certain strange 
town, who did not ring his bell, a comrade and 
myself arrested him, pretending to be revenue 
detectives. His eyes glared and his lips trembled, 
and 1 could see that he was badly frightened. We, 
however, only took a quart of his best liquor, a 
few drinks and left him. I don't much regret this, 
for I am not even with the bar-keepers yet. At 
another time I was introduced to a bar-keeper^ as 
the Governor of Tennessee. 1 am not very im- 
posing in appearance, as one might imagine from 
my life of dissipation, but the scheme succeeded. 
We received many drinks from the rumseller, in 
the way of ovation. 

My fondness for jesting and practical joking was 
one of the principal causes of my first going astray. 
If I could perpetrate a practical joke, I did it, no 
matter whom it hurt or harmed. One of my most 
intellectual friends made a remark once, which 
caused me to reflect for a season. He said: "Harry 
Watkins' practical jokes are more like the gambols 
of a fiend in glee than a human being having mer- 
riment out of his fellows.' 1 I organized and led 
what we called the Knights of Montezuma, a 



OF AN ILL-SPEXT LIFE. 93 



mock court in my town, Gatesville. There I learned 
to speak in public. # # * # # * 

In one of my tramping trips, I stood on the 
streets of Philadelphia without a dollar. Cold and 
hungry I was, too. but I could get whisky when I 
could not get bread, by repeating poetry and giv- 
ing toasts at the different bar rooms. Thence I 
traveled to St. Louis without a cent. At this last 
city a friend bought me an overcoat (which I have 
since paid for) and a quart of whisky, and thus 
accoutred, I started southward. It may sound in- 
credible; but I really did pass off upon a little new 
conductor as President of the road and took a 
sleeper free. Of course I had my rags well cov- 
ered by my overcoat. Reader, I never did such 
a thing sober; when sober I am always able to pay 
my way. ###### * 

Demon Drink caused it all — all mv troubles. I 
have signed away the deeds to tw r o most beautiful 
homes for whisky; have sold my piano, my horse 
and bugrgfV, and even looked at mv milk cows 
driven away to pay for a debauch, but I will never 
do so aorain. Alss ! how often have I said it. 
Poverty is the invariable result of a fast life. 
Young man, take my advice: lead a sober, Chris- 
tian life. It is better, not only here, but on the 
other shore. When a man's purse is empty his 
anecdotes become stale; and when he is deprived 
of his health, his wealth, his home and his happi- 



94 UPS AND DOWNS 



ness; when his last farthing is gone, and he hangs 
on to the counter and begs for only one drink to 
quiet his trembling nerves, they will advise him to 
sober up, and behind his back call him an "old 
drunken dog." 

The saloon loungers prey on the free and liberal- 
hearted young man. They drink his whisky, par- 
take of his hospitality until his money is exhausted, 
and then turn him out in the cold. The world 
looks in condemnation on all his undertakings. 
Should he apply for a position, they shake their 
heads, and say " he will drink again.'' From every 
door he is turned away. 

There seems to be no place on earth where he 
can go and receive consolation. If he goes to 
Sunday school they gaze at him, and whisper to 
each other, " I wonder why he came ?" If he goes 
to church he feels like a prodigal, and no one, even 
there, greets him with a cordial "good morning. ,, 
Heartsick and almost weary of life, the young man 
in his sober moments reflects on his misspent life, 
and there flashes through his brain the thought of 
a mother. He is ashamed to return on account 
of his wretched condition — and if he does turn 
his weary steps homeward, the tempter is likely to 
beckon him back. * . # # # # 

In this disjointed chapter, written while recover- 
ing from the horrors of drunkenness, I might 
make mention of attendant evils upon drink. It 



OF AN ILL-SPENT LIFE. 95 



is sometimes the gambling hell and the half-clad, 
painted courtezan, the whited sepulchre, which first 
allures the youth to drink and consequent ruin. It 
is often in such places that the wine is free, the 
beer fresh and foaming, the parlors fine, the 
music sweet. He sees for the first time in life, 
perhaps, the mockery of womanhood, and listens 
to her flattery. At first he is shocked and wants 
to leave, but as his check becomes flushed with 
wine, morality leaves his heart. He is finally per- 
suaded to "take a hand;" is allowed to win until 
excited over success, he stakes and loses all he has. 
The cordiality becomes contempt; the women 
frown upon him, and the men are ready to kick 
him out. 

The cold breeze which blows upon his fevered 
cheek waifs upon the night air the slow and solemn 
tones of the town clock, one, two, three, four ! in 
the morning. At early daw T n of day he staggers to 
his hotel, and remembers as he enters that he has 
not even enough left to pay his bill, and those who 
claimed .to be his friends, and who never had left 
him for an hour, were now behind and perhaps 
laughing over their spoils. No mother's soft hand 
is there to smooth his agonized brow; no fathers 
strong arm upon which to lean. Finally, in his 
wretchedness, he seeks revenge, and goes back. 
They laugh it off, and tell him all things are fair 
in gaming. Then, taking advantage of his misery, 



t)6 UPS AND DOWNS 



they perhaps induce him to become a decoy for 
other young men of his acquaintance, and steeped 
in liquor, he goes from misfortune to shame. 

I am no fanatic. I differ with good friends in 
politics, and have represented a political party on 
the stump in Texas. It is not my desire to bring 
sectarianism or politics in this book, but suffice to 
say I believe in the Christian religion, and am a 
member of the Church* — if they did not turn me out 
lately- — but it does seems to me that I would prefer 
any occupation under the sun to that of selling my 
fellow-men whisky. I have one or two friends 
who are bar-keepers, and have met a few clever 
men in that business, who treated me w r ith kind- 
ness w T hen I needed it, for which I am thankful 
We find good and bad men in all occupations, but 
I have seen a bar-keeper in Sunday-school wipe 
his face on a pure white silk handerchief, pawned 
for a drink by a poor inebriate, who had experi- 
enced better days, and with the name of a broken- 
hearted wife embroidered in the corner. She shiv- 
ered in the cold and wept because she had not 
respectable clothing to wear. I have seen a bar- 
keeper take an old man's spectacles for a drink, 
and curse him because he did not have the money. 
I have seen him accept the wearing apparel of a 
woman, pawned by a drunken husband, and thinn 
it was smart. Yes, I have seen him take a Bible, 
the word of God, as collateral for liquor. 



Of AN ILL-SPENT LIFE, 9/ 

All bar-keepers will not do so. These are only a 
few incidents— and notwithstanding his mental cali- 
bre is light; notwithstanding he parts his hair sleek 
in the middle and wears a white apron, still he keeps 
on tap that which wrecks the brightest brains, 
which desolates the happiest homes, and breaks 
the gayest and happiest hearts. That which causes 
poverty — crime — -suicide. He sells that which 
advocates wrong, condemns right; that which is 
the devil's best friend and God's worst enemy. 

Me mocks the good and smiles with the bad; he 
robs of fortune, fame and honor. "Angels turn 
weeping away, and God upon his throne looks in 
anger, and hurls a woe upon the hand which put- 
teth a bottle to his neighbor's lips." He has taken 
from me my all; checkered my life and blotted my 
future, but he shall have his reward. May the 
Lord soften his tiger-heart 



CHAPTER XIIL 

Lecture — the people and press-— kobt. goss— * 
tour through the south— piome again— -go to 
texarkan a— dreadful forboding— i love a 
friend— god help me ! i fall—experience in 
new boston, clarksville, honey grove, ladonia 
and wolf city— gratitude— cold reception at 

m'kINNEY*— MY DREAM*— LECTURE— COMMENTS OF 
THE PRESS, 

About thirteen months ago 1 began to lecture, 
Having suffered so much from the cause of intem- 
perance* I determined to warn others against pur- 
suing the path that led me to ruin. I began 
lecturing at home and at contiguous towns. A 
local reputation as a speaker preceded me, and fair 
audiences were at my appointments, generally 
brought thither by curiosity. Presently the people 
and press began to discover, or thought they did, 
something original about me and my style of talk- 
ing, and my audiences of tens and hundreds began 
to expand until they were far into the thousands. 
Fame, too, began to trumpet me abroad, and I 



OF AN ILL-SPENT LIFE. 99 

felt I was also on the road to fortune. 

From Shreveport I went to Vicksburg, thence 
to Batesville, Sardis, Como, Hernando and Mem- 
phis, lecturing to fine audiences in each town. At 
Ripley, where lived my mother and relatives, I 
was most cordially received. Through Kentucky 
I made a successful tour, and then started home- 
ward through Arkansas, lecturing in the principal 
cities through which I passed. At the depots I 
was often honored with a free carriage, and, on 
several occasions, with a brass band. Captain 
Robert Goss, of Sherman, traveled with me a 
short while. The Captain was a fine elocutionist 
and frequently entertained us with his humorous 
imitations. I tried to live a consistent Christian 
life, which was easy with these good religious in- 
fluences around me. After the lapse of seven 
months I returned to my little home, and rested a 
happy month. Then again I embarked on a lec- 
turing tour, feeling now that I had entirely over- 
come my former dissipated habits, and began to 
present the appearance of my former self. I filled 
several engagements and then went to Texarkana, 
where I had written the minister to make an ap- 
pointment, but he ignored my letter. Stopping at 
the Benefield Hotel that night, an awful thirst 
came upon for drink. God forgive me, I am either 
too gay or too sad. I love a companion, a friend, 
a consoler. While I had no reason to think so, 



IOO UPS AND DOWNS 



still I felt that the world had forsaken me. Rest- 
less, nervous, I cannot describe my feelings that 
night in Texarkana. I went to a circus and tried 
to laugh it off, but the laugh was all in vain. After 
the circus I walked the streets until two o'clock in 
the morning. Finally I walked into a saloon — 
the first time in ten months — then I was doomed. 
I called for whisky and poured it down. I treated 
my money away and took in the town. Boarding 
the cars, I next found myself in the little town of 
New Boston, where, on account of this debauch, 
my lecture was a failure. I attempted to speak, 
but my tongue was so thick that the audience at 
once discovered that I was drunk. Yes, drunk ! 
Going down the hill, as it is my nature to travel 
in this condition. I next realized my whereabouts 
in Clarksville, where the noble Mr. Will Taylor 
took care of me for several days. God will bless 
a charitable Christian heart. May the bees weave 
their sweetest honey for him and corn fields wave 
their fullest grain. Mr. Taylor, thinking I was 
truly sober, allowed me to go to Honey Grove. 
Arriving in Honey Grove on Saturday, I again 
imbibed too freely and reveled with the wine bib- 
bers. Two kind young men carried me to my 
hotel, and I was able to lecture in the Presby- 
terian church Sunday evening, receiving a fair 
contribution for my address, which amount was 
wasted in dissipation, mainly at Ladonia. 



OF AN ILL-SPENT LIFE. IOI 

I will digress here by stating that with all my 
faults, I am grateful. I love the people of Honey 
Grove and Ladonia. I may fall and go to ruin, but 
God will bless them for their kindness. I remem- 
ber those who gave their hands and picked me up 
the "seventy times seven." I remember Rich- 
ardson, Dabbs, the Ashlands, and others, whose 
names space will not permit me to write. As a 
matter of consequence I cannot remember all that 
happened, but am told that I fell down in the pul- 
pit, drunk, in Wolf City, and the people walked 
out, perfectly disgusted with me. Then I became 
sick and was confined to my bed. One morning 
two ministers, Rev. j. B, Nicholdson, and Rev. 
Mr. Philips came in my room and prayed God to 
strengthen me and free me from this, ihe curse of 
my life. After the ministers had gone a couple of 
gentlemen in adjoining rooms, who overheard the 
prayer, rushed in and seemed much impressed 
with the Christian charity of the ministers. Nich- 
oldson afterward visited several small towns with 
me, and was instrumental in my reformation again. 
May the all wise Omnipotent, who rules the desti- 
nies of the universe, ever bless them, is my feeble 
but fervent prayer, and should any one who 
favored me ever get in want, it will be my pleasure 
to aid them. 

I next visited McKinney, sober — but the min- 
isters had heard of my fall, and some of them 



102 UPS AND DOWNS 



would hardly speak to me. This was one time I 
deserve credit for not drinking, for I was almost 
crazed for a drink. I dreamed of whisky. I walked 
the streets until one o'clock in the morning alone 
— almost delirious — then I tried again to sleep. I 
dreamed that I stood in hell and cursed the angels 
in heaven because they would not give me whisky. 
Then I made my escape from torment, and was 
walking through a beautiful shady grove and met 
my little nephew, who refused to recognize me, 
because I had been drunk. Then I wandered 
into a mansion fine, with marble halls and elegant 
furniture, where sat two beautiful young ladies, 
whom I recognized as my nieces, but they ordered 
me away. Then I went up a broad flight of stairs 
and walked into a double parlor, where I found all 
of my relatives weeping. I tried to laugh and 
cheer them, but they told me I must go. Suddenly 
a sound from above — sweeter than an angel's 
harp — and, in my vision, I beheld through the 
window a beautiful woodland scene. Happy chil- 
dren in innocence were playing through the park 
with temperance tanners; the rosy sunset radiant 
glow was just then painting the western sky in match- 
less beauty, throwing athwart the heavens streams 
of golden light, but the enchantment of such a 
picture only increased my misery. The music from 
above increased to a sweeter tone, and seemed to 
call me. I went up higher, where I found a hun- 



OF AN ILL-SPENT LIFE. 103 

dred maidens, whose faces gleamed with beauty, 
such as was not given to the daughters of men, 
but they ran from my presence, and I was alone, 
only to view my haggard expression and tattered 
clothing through tbe large mirrors about the room. 
Just then the glittering lights went out — only a 
faint light from the far-off sun fell dimly on the 
carpet. The piano played a funeral march with- 
out the touch of a dainty hand. Suddenly the 
double doors were rolled back and instead of the 
maidens there came a hundred witches to mock 
me. Over their worn and wrinkled faces streamed 
tangled masses of long, gray hair, their voices 
came hollow from their toothless gums, and a 
single eye was peeping from one to the other, as 
if they wished to chagrin me. They threw me 
from the window on the streets below, and then 
they hissed and set the dogs on me. 

But morning came, and I met the county judge, 
who invited me to lecture in the courthouse, which 
was roomy and comfortable. Gladly I accepted. 

I do not intend to give every little newspaper 
report concerning myself, but copy the following 
from the McKinney Mercury, which explains the 
first lecture: 

THE LECTURE OF HARRY WATKINS AT THE COURT- 
HOUSE MONDAY NIGHT. 

The above named gentleman delivered a lecture 
at the courthouse in this city on Monday night, to 



I04 UPS AND DOWNS 



a large and appreciative audience, taking for his 
theme, "Delirium Tremens." We will not attempt 
to follow the gentleman in his lecture, the space 
at our command this week being inadequate to do 
him anything like justice. More than this, he 
should have been heard to be appreciated. To say 
that the lecture was an exceedingly fine one, would 
but feebly express it. During a portion of his 
lecture the silence in the courtroom could be 
almost felt, so intense was it, and the dropping of 
a pin could almost have been heard. At other 
times the audience was convulsed with laughter, 
and thus it alternated from the beginning to the 
close. Mr. Watkins drew a vivid and startling 
picture of the phantoms and demons that haunted 
him while delirious from liquor. He has the 
faculty of swaying men almost at will) and he uses 
it with most wonderful facility. No one who has 
the pleasure of hearing him once, but longs to 
hear again. But We leave the lecture and pass to 
another matter. 

The fact that Mr. Watkins has relapsed once or 
twice since his reformation, and gone back to the 
dowI, is harshly commented on in certain quarters. 
Thrice John B. Cough* the most noted temperance 
lecturer of his time, fell by the Wayside and went 
back to his cups after his reformation, but he con- 
quered his old enemy in the end, and lived for 
years, and died a sober man, respected by untold 



OF AN ILL-SPENT LIFE. IO5 

thousands of his adopted countrymen. 

Luther Benson, another reformed man of mark- 
ed ability, has fallen a time or two. But Gough, 
Watkins and Benson fell with their faces to the 
foe, and arose to renew the battle for liberty from 
the thralldom which had so long held them. Gough 
has gone to his rest, and beyond the reach of 
temptation, and that Watkins and Benson will 
conquer yet, we firmly believe. The wonder is, 
that with the thousand alluring temptations that 
beset their pathway on every hand, that they have 
not fallen oftener than they have. No man who 
has not been in the coils of the monster, Rum, 
bound, hand and foot, with reason dethroned and 
the sense stupefied from long indulgences, can 
know how hard it is to abstain. Judge not too 
harshly, for with what judgment you judge it shall 
be meted to you again. — Mc Kinney Mercury. 

HARRY WATKINS, THE REFORMED DRUNKARD WHAT 

HE IS DOING WHAT THE PAPERS SAY. 

Harry Watkins, the reformed drunkard, lectured 
at the O. S. Presbyterian church last night, and 
will lecture again to-night. His lectures are truly 
interesting, and he is possessed of extraordinary 
gifts of eloquence and oratory, and has been termed 
"the most eloquent man in America." The friends 
of temperance and all other classes should not fail 
to attend his lecture at the O. S. Presbyterian 
church to-night. We clip the following from the 



I06 UPS AND DOWNS 

Fort Worth Gazette in its issue of the 4th ult, by 
its correspondent from Stephenville, which says: 
"On last Sunday afternoon at 3 o'clock, Harry 
Watkins, the reformed drunkard, (now) temperance 
lecturer, lectured at the Baptist church, in this 
place, to a crowded house. Mr. Watkins most 
graphically, eloquently and pathetically detailed 
his experience as a drunkard; said he had been 
drunk ten vears, that he had traveled all over the 
land, in all styles and manner, that he had spent a 
fortune in drunkennesss and rioting; that he had 
been a gentleman, and a tramp and a beggar. He 
told a tale of woe and sorrow, of shame, misery, 
poverty and degradation that made the gayest and 
most thoughtless, sober and thoughtful." — Sherman 
Democrat. 

"THE GREAT TEMPERANCE LECTURER" — A SHORT 
SKETCH OF HIS LIFE IN CORYELL COUNTY SHOWING 
A FEW OF HIS MANY UPS AND DOWNS. 

Harry Watkins, the reformed drunkard and 
great temperance evangelist, has been a citizen of 
our town for the past fourteen years. He is cer- 
tainly the wonder of Texas, and has been called 
the "w r it of the west." He was born of poor 
parents, near Murfreesboro, Tennessee, and began 
to look out for himself in early life. When a beard- 
less boy, only thirteen, he landed here, without 
education or money, but was very attractive, and 
his oddities gained for him many warm friends 



OF AN ILL-SPENT LIFE. IO/ 

and admirers for his personal character. In his 
nature he was congenial and liberal, full of pluck 
and energrv, and soon beran to accumulate. After 
m ikinor a little fortune he contracted the habit of 
social drinking, which led to his ruin and degra- 
dation. He was the most notorious character in 
all the land; was tried for some crime before every 
Justice and District court while the name of the 
desperado was fashionable in Western Texas. On 
one occasion he met five men in the road and, at 
the point of his pistol, made one pat and whistle 
while the other four danced. Dissipation led him 
on to ruin until he was incarcerated in the Fort 
Worth jail, where he suffered for some time the 
hardships of a prison life, was brought back here a 
prisoner, and released on bound for assault with 
intent to murder. He was a while a tramp, wan- 
dering from town to town, depending on his 
witticisms and sono-s for his whisky. 

The young man began to realize his condition, 
sobered up again, became a gentleman, paid up 
his old debts, and engaged in the mercantile busi- 
ness. His sudden rise and general qualifications 
was a mystery, even to his intimate friends, as he 
was never educated, and had no assistance from 
any one. For two years he was sober, did an ex- 
tensive business, lived in style and commanded 
the esteem and confidence of all who knew him, 
when he again fell and went to utter ruin, was 



108 Ui'S AND DOWNS 

away from home, penniless, and had delirium 
tremens some half dozen times. 

Some four months ago the young man again 
returned to the guide of his youth, sobered up and 
began to lecture, reciting his own sad experience 
in intemperance, and, be it said to his honor, that 
he never fails to hold his audience spell-bound, 
and, with but a short experience and no education, 
he is called by the leading papers of Texas the 
eloquent, extemporaneous speaker of America, and 
on several occasions he has had an audience of 
three thousand people, and wielded great good in 
the cause of temperance. — Gatesville Star. 




CHAPTER XIV. 

CURED OF FIGHTING— A SUMMARY IN SORROW. 

Doubtless some one will imagine, from previous 
chapters, that I am a terrible fighter, but not so, 
I have long- since been cured of the fighting 
disease-shaving had some half dozen six-shooters* 
billiard cues, and other articles broken over my 
head. I have reformed in the fighting line. Should 
any of my readers be suffering with this complaint) 
(ambition to fight) if they will try the antidotes I 
have taken, I will guarantee a permanent cure, 
Should your desire to fight, after taking the above 
prescribed dose* not cease at once, try the nippers 
and get ' 'jugged," and you will never again be 
troubled. Tar and feathers are said to be fine for 
young fighters. 

I am glad, however, that I am the only prodigal 
of my name, and, in all my experience, have never 
been accused of dishonesty; and have assisted 
fallen humanity every way in my power. I know 
the world condemns me, but I never intended, 
when I started out in life, to become a drunkard. 



IIO UPS AND DOWNS 

People often ask me why I did so. What a fool- 
ish question ! Man may have the fortitude to en- 
dure any pain, privation or suffering; he may have 
the courage to charge up to the cannon's mouth, 
hut he has no power to resist this gnawing tempta- 
tion. When the habit is fixed, it is as hard to 
break as for "the weary, worn, and thirsty traveler 
in the barren, burning, waterless desert to pass by 
a cold, pure spring, that might burst from the 
gravelly bed of a green oasis, and not stop to 
quench his thirst. ' It is only through the mercy 
of High Heaven, and through the spirit of Him 
whose spirit once moved upon the face of the 
waters. Reformation is almost a miracle. 

Life is a failure to me now. It is too late — too 
much has been wasted in riotous living for me 
to succeed at anything. Too late ! How often, 
when approaching the summit of the hill, have I 
fallen? How often, when the little birds were 
hung out to sing sweetly in their places, when 
sunshine gladdened approaching day, and blessed 
with joy all others, have I thought, why did / 
awake ? How often have I prayed to die — I can- 
not tell. 

I am now heavily involved. When you look in 
my face you see the picture of woe, of sorrow, 
and despair; but such is the fate of an ill-spent life 
— such the sad fate of the one who tramples 
under foot the laws of God and nature; but I will 



OF AN ILL-SPENT LIFE. 



I I 1 



make one more attempt, and then it is finished. 
If I do not succeed, let me die the death of 
shame. 




CONCLUSION 

The foregoing- chapters were written several 
months ago, when I fondly flattered myself I had 
forever put this cursed vice under foot; when 
friends had begun to re-gather about me. But 
just then, in the height of my confidence, I — God 
help me— fell Yes, for two months I have been 
drunk, wretchedly, miserably drunk — have begged 
my whisky, and sunk to shame and degradation 
once more, 

Will I ever reform ? God knoweth. 

But, with shattered body and weadened mind 
from recent dissipation, I can think of others, and, 
W 7 ith my trembling hands, write a warning to our 
young men. Don't begin the habit ! It will drag 
you down; it will drag down the noblest of God's 
creatures. Ask it for virtue, it will give you vice; 
ask it for honor, it will give you disgrace; ask it 
for bread, you w r ill receive a stone; ask it for 
riches, and destitution will surely come. 

It may be that this is the last warning I shall 
ever pen; that my voice has been raised for the 






OF AN ILL-SPENT LIFE. 113 



last time against this great enemy of mankind — 
that long dissipation and exposure will soon tell 
fatally upon a weak frame. There is a ray of hope 
yet left me. I have heard, and really do believe 
that, by firm trust in Jesus Christ, the horrible 
habit can be broken. Never yet have I been able 
— and God forgive me for it — to feel that degree of 
faith which would be necessary. It shall be mine, 
though, if constant prayer can attain it. This is 
my last chance. Human resolution has proved a 
failure, and I now lift my eyes to Heaven. Chris- 
tian people who read this tale of despair will surely 
pray for me. 




CHAPTER XV. 

CONTEMPLATES SUICIDE A BEACON LIGHT OF HOPE 

METHODIST CHURCH CHURCH TRIAL NEED OF 

SYMPATHY. 

One night in December I sat upon my door 
steps, a broken hearted wretch. For four months 
I had experienced the horrors of the damned in a 
debauch, I had been fainting, praying, raving, 
despairing. I was afraid of every thing; and had 
a million dreadful apprehensions. 

The night previous to this memorable one, 
when I attempted to sleep, I was stared at, hoot- 
ed at, grinned at, chattered at by monkeys, and 
ugly human creatures. In my dreams I was idol; 
I was priest; I was worshiped; I was sacrificed. I 
had done a deed they said, which they all trembled 
at. I was buried for a thousand years. My dead 
face was kissed, with cancerous kisses, and I was 
confounded with unutterable slimv things, and 
when I awoke I cried aloud, "I will sleep no 
more." 

With inebriates there are no dates. But this 



OF AN ILL-SPENT LIFE. I 1 5 

memorable December night, without a date, is 
written indelibly upon my mind forever, for I had 
been doubting, dreaming dreams, no mortal ever 
dared to dream before. In this dark hour I felt 
myself despised by those I loved; forsaken by the 
friends of my confidence. O, how I love a friend ! 
and one kind word in these gloomy hours is worth 
all the world to me; for man, in this condition, is 
not a man. He is a lost child. Give me sickness, 
and disease, lightning and tempest; plague and 
pestilence; famine and battle; but save me from 
the dreadful fate of a poor inebriate. 

No ! I will never forget the December night, 
for I had resolved then to commit suicide, and 
queried alone over different plans of performing 
the dreadful tragedy. 

When a boy, my father one autumn evening 
sent me into a lame wood lot to look for our 
cows. Darkness came upon me before I could 
find the cows. Half frightened, I ran throuoh the 
woods looking for them, and was dreadfully 
alarmed -on finding an old negro man, who had 
committed suicide by hanging himself with a 
strong string, to a dog wood tree. I thought of 
this, — and shuddered ! 

In imagination I -could see the few who would 
follow my dead body to its last resting place. I 
could hear the clods fall faintly upon my coffin 
lid. In frenzv I shrieked an everlasting farew r ell, 



Il6 UPS AND DOWNS 



but no answer came, and not a tear was shed. I 

imagined the wooden board placed at the foot of 

my grave, with the inscription written- — 

" Harry Watkins" 

"Died with Delirium Tremens." 

Then came thoughts of the future, "Is death the 
end? Is suicide unpardonable? Can a man be 
saved if he takes his own life?" 

Theorizing over the intricacies of theology, I 
thought of the Universalist doctrine, but could not 
have faith in it. 

"And fear came upon me, which trembling 
caused all my bones to shake." 

I pictured a torment. A scorching hell with fire 
and brimstone ! The Demons with fiery tongues 
to burn me forever in lakes of brimstone ! and if 
I committed suicide I would be there in one 
second. Trembling I arose and walked about the 
yard with feelings intermingled between fright and 
sacred sorrow. 

O, you coward! hell can not be worse than this, 
I cried ! I will risk the consequences, and like a 
maniac I walked rapidly to, and looked into a dark 
cistern. Here my courage failed. This will be 
a hard death, I thought, and again looked into the 
cistern. I will take an over dose of morphine and 
go to sleep forever. For a moment I congratulated 
myself that I had come to a final conclusion. 

The moon beamed and the stars twinkled bright 



OF AN ILL-SPENT LIFE. 11/ 

above me, and it was yet early in the night, when 
I stood in front of my own cottage door, resolved 
alas, to bid the world a sad farewell. There were 
the same mountains, and the same lovely valley at 
their feet, I had gazed upon in happy, innocent 
childhood. There were the same meadows and 
forest lawns, but no living creature was to be seen, 
excepting the cattle tranquilly reposing upon the 
verdant hills. As I gazed upon the well known 
scene, the memories of those I loved in a far away 
land appeared like a vision before me, and I 
wondered if they cared for the "wandering boy 
to-night;" just then the village church bell tolled, 
and — 

/ cried aloud, "I am mad ! I zuill sin no more." 
Then turning in my agony upward to God I 
saw a far off beacon lipfht. It was the light of 
hope. I will walk abroad; old griefs shall be for- 
gotten, for the air is cool and still, and the hills of 
Coryell are high, and stretch away to heaven; the 
forest glades are quiet; with the dew I can wash 
my fevered forehead, and then I shall be unhappy 
no longer. But hark ! — I hear a sound — sound 
sweet as an angel's harp. It tolls for me again; it is 
the sound of the church bell. I will go there and 
find consolation. 

So calling all my courage up I bent my feeble 
steps toward the Methodist church. I am a mem- 
ber of this church, and mv father in his life time 



Il8 UPS AND DOWNS 



was a leader of Walnut Grove M. E. church of 
Tennessee. Often when a little prattling boy he 
led me by the hand to Sabbath School. 

But Gatesville was only a village and the church 
cost, I suppose, about eight hundred or one thou- 
sand dollars, of which amount I paid about two 
hundred and fifty dollars when not a member. But 
then I reflected, I have sinned against my Father 
in Heaven. I will go there to prayer meetings and 
the good Christians will pray for, and strengthen 
me. Blessed Christian charity, I thought, "Though 
I have all faith so that I could remove mountains, 
and have not charity I am nothing." Blessed 
Christian charity, "envieth not, vaunted not it- 
self," is not puffed up, "seeketh not her own, is 
not easily provoked," "thinking no evil," and the 
glorious church is the "bride of the nation." It 
is a nursery for fallen humanity. These thoughts 
strengthened me, I entered the church but my re- 
ception was not as I fondly anticipated. In fact 
it was directly contrary to what I considered the 
teachings of the Christian religion. They all gazed 
at me in silence. I saw they had a secret up, and 
felt out of place, but determined to stay it out; 
finally the monotony was broken by the minister 
who said — "well, what are we going to do with 
Bro. Watkins' case," and I found they^ were trying 
me in church for getting drunk. 

This was so unexpected that it fell upon me like 



OF AN ILL-SPENT LIFE. I I 9 

a thunder stroke. A few sought to raise them- 
selves high in the estimation of this crood com- 
munity by wrapping in the ecclesiastical garb, and 
meeting- unawares of a fallen brother to Injure 
him. Mortified, broken hearted, I left. 

The bright moonlight had gone; the world was 
clothed in gloom. The melancholy melody of 
the little bird in the deep shadow of the suburban 
forests, and the roar of the river as it meandered 
around the town could faintly be heard for a mo- 
ment, only, and then died away in the dismal 
stillness. In all the East there was no moon now. 
The lony waving brightness had faded dim, and 
drear and colorless, beneath the vast vague sky. 
A shiver ran through the flowers and grasses, and 
the still evening was palpitating only by the throb 
of an aching heart. 

Trembling* in the dark and chill v night, uncon- 
sciously I sat alone upon the great stone steps of 
the building I had once owned and occupied as 
prince of merchants, and wept for the blessed con- 
solations, of sympathy. Abandoned bv the world, 
though watched and protected by the all pervad- 
ing presence of the God who made me, for temp- 
tation was removed, the drug store was closed, 

and a life was spared to yet accomplish good. 

# # # # # # # # # 

God save the drunkard. When his money is gone 
the world mocks, and his inferiors refuse to recog- 



1 20 UPS AND DOWNS 



nize him. "He lies under the weight of an incubus 
and nightmare; he lies in sight of all he would fain 
perform, just as a man is forcibly held to his bed by 
the mortal languor of a relaxing disease, who is 
compelled to witness injury or outrage offered to 
some object of his tenderest love he curses.the 
spells which chain him down from motion; he 
would lay down his life if he might get up and 
walk; but he is powerless as an infant, and cannot 
even attempt to -rise." 







NOTES. 

An old chum writes me — 

"Dear Harry:" Yours of the 12th just received 
— glad indeed, to hear from my old pard. 

# # # You are mistaken. 

They never turned you out of church, some of our 
best citizens ably defended you after you had gone, 
and, you are still a member in good standing. 

?^r *^£r -^r *^i£? rs^r -iE* "^r "s<£? *^£r 

*7rW*77- *?CW*7r *7r*7 , T-7V' 

Your Friend. 

God gave us different physiognomies; different 
ideas. The world has about fourteen million 
population, with as many different expressions of 
the face-. Sentiments of communities are different. 
One community will applaud, another will hiss 
at the same story. How 7 strange is human nature! 
The average man waits and watches to fall in 
with the popular tide regardless of right. The 
lowest, meanest, and most degraded sentiment 
that can prevail in a community (according to my 
idea) is that of oppressing a fallen brother. It is a 



122 UPS AND DOWNS 

sentiment indicative of ignorance. Such a senti- 
ment must be commanded, not entn ated, for we 
find in such a sentiment none of the refined ele- 
ment in human nature; no sympathy; no love; no 
charity. 

" Garlands of grace" and religious temperance 
societies have been a blessing to the land, but 
when a society, either political or religious, meets 
to take advantage of a brother's infirmities, and 
thank the Lord we are not as other men, because 
a we pray," and "we fast," and "we are more holy 
than thou," they do the cause which they repre- 
ent a great injustice, and just such a sentiments 
existed with the few who sought to expel me from 
the Gatesville church, because we had political 
misunderstandings and I carried the majority. 
From religious hyopocrites or moral tyrants "good 
Lord deliver us." They are instigators of scepti- 
cism. 

I was invited on one occasion to address a tem- 
perance society, and this society had selected 
associates for the young ladies. In fact the young 
ladies signed a pledge to go w T ith no young man 
who did not belong to this holy order. To the 
utter astonishment of all present, I told the young 
ladies to go home and let their parents advise 
them in matters of that kind, that these old hypo- 
crites would invade the very sanctity of a domestic 
hearthstone, and the quicker they dropped an ar- 



OF AN ILL-SPENT LIFE. 1 23 

rangement of this kind the better, and they did 
take my advice. I know there are designing men 
who use wine to accomplish brutal purposes, but 
they are too small for a society to notice and can 
only be reached with a club. Do all you can to 
encourage morality or any good cause; advise with 
kindness your companions, and any lady or gen- 
tleman will listen to kindness; if not a lady or gen- 
tleman, you have been taught from childhood not 
to associate with them. Do not consider any one 
a sinner w T ho differs with you in politics or religion, 
and join no society to select your companions. 

I love the ministry; in my darkest hours I go to 
my pastor to receive consolation, just as a little 
child would go to its mother for caresses. I unbosom 
to him my troubles, and he, to me, is a blessing; 
but a little narrow, contracted "jim crow" preacher 
with only one idea in his head on "baptism" is to 
me a very small arrangement. Don't misunderstand 
me, I mean the exacting, condemning, convicting 
man, who never fails to curse out his congregation; 
who usually has a corporal's guard for an audience, 
and preaches every body into hell who disagrees 
with him. I mean the little "one Gallus preacher," 
who has struck a new route to heaven and rides 
there on the rail of Ism. 

It is only through kindness that we can reach 
or help fallen humanity. The meek and lowly 
Nazarene taught it. 



124 UPS AND DOWNS 

Wm. Wirt lay beastly drunk on the streets of 
Washington with the hoc sun pouring on his face. 
A lady in passing, touched with sympathy and 
kindness, gently placed her handkerchief over his 
haggard face. Arousing from his drunken stupor, 
he walked into a bar room and called for whisky; 
as he raised the poison trembling to his lips, he 
saw the embroidered name of the fair lady on the 
handkerchief; and dashed the rum against the floor 
resolving to drink no more. This impromptu kind- 
ness on the part of the lady led to more intimate 
acquaintance. Keenly she must have enjoyed her 
position as wife of one of the greatest orators the 
world has ever known. 

Jno. B. Gough said: " There are but few 
instances in which kindness has been fairly exer- 
cised that it has not subdued the enmity opposed 
to it. Its first effort will not probably succeed, any 
more than one shower of rain will reclaim the burn- 
ing desert but shed the dew of its holy influence 
repeatedly on the revengeful soul, and it may be- 
come beautiful with the flowers of tenderness. 
Let any person put the question to his soul, 
whether under any circumstances he can resist 
continued kindness. Good is omnipotent in over- 
coming evil. I know there are hard cases, — men 
who will resist and resent every approach; but, 
from my experience and observation, I believe 
there are few so hardened but persevering, judi- 



OF AN ILL-SPENT LIFE. 



125 



cious kindness will touch some spot in the heart; 
for they are human. 




CHAPTER XVI. 

AGAIN DESPONDENT RESOLVES UPON A NEW CAREER 

■ — BORROWS TWENTY-FIVE DOLLARS FAREWELL TO 

HOME— TEN DOLLAR RIDE- — SHREVEPORT, LA FALL 

DOWN THE EMBANKMENT — KEACHEI BAPTIST 

SCHOOLS AND DEBATING CLUB— LECTURE AGAIN- 

TWO THOUSAND DOLLARS IN TWO NIGHTS NAT- 

CHITOCHES FALLEN AGAIN* — WEST LAKE CHARLES 

DELIRIUM TREMENS AGAIN KIND FRIEDS IN WEST 

LAKE CHARLFS. 

Doubtless you will think that I am too confiden- 
tial and communicative of my own private history. 
It may be so. But my way of writing is to think 
aloud and follow my own private humors, rather 
than much to consider, who is listening to me. 

The morning following the church trial and 
drunk, I walked alone, about one mile from town 
to Leon River. Seating myself under a large 
tree, I thought, and prayed, and wept for hours. 
Those who in days gone by had paid me every 
ovation, now wagged their heads, and passed me 
by. 



OF AN ILL-SPENT LIFE. 12J 

What a mournful minute is that, in which society 
consummates the irreparable abandonment of a 
thinking being! Hence I perhaps wrongfully 
condemned society. I thought of a life of torture, 
and gloom. I felt that I was growing wicked, and 
almost condemned Providence as growing impious; 
I meditated, can man who is created good by God, 
be made bad by man? can the soul be entirely 
remade by destiny, and become evil if the destiny 
be evil? Is there not in every human soul, a 
primary spark, a divine element, incorruptible in 
this world and immortal for the other, which good 
can develope, illumine, and cause to glisten splen- 
didly, and which evil can never entirely extin- 
guish ? These are grave and obscure questions, 
which I will not attempt to answer. 

Rebuke after rebuke, kick after kick, had caused 
me to lose confidence even in my own merit. 
So now absorbed in thought I was soon unaware 
of my whereabouts, and thus began to solilo- 
quize: — 

I will -go to a strange land, and commence a 
new life, I will never mention the past but look to 
a bright future, but, no, I haven't any money and 
do not know T where to get it, and I can not travel 
without means, so I will accept a situation here, 
however humble it may be, until I am able to go 
some where and rise in the world again. 

After cogitating for some time, I arose, walked 



128 UPS AND DOWNS 



up town, and applied at every store for a situation. 
Frequently I had reveled away more money in a 
day, than most of these pea nut stands w r ere worth; 
but they wouldn't hire me at any price, and didn't 
have much time to talk. 

Such treatment has not only made drunkards 
and prostitutes but sent men who naturally had 
good hearts to rob trains. Bad treatment, an in- 
sight to human nature, and a betrayal of confid- 
ence will cause a man. to hate the world and long- 
to get even. But such a spirit is ruinous, and sure 
death, and we must battle against it. So now, 
instead of melancholy I felt a resentment. Re- 
solving to do something I next applied to a gen- 
tleman for a loan of twenty-five dollars. To my 
happy surprise he at once handed me a check for 
the amount and I found one true friend in need. 
Thanking my friend for his kindness I walked to 
the depot and got aboard the cars, not knowing 
where I was going or what I would do. 

A large two story residence, painted white, with 
open green blinds and surrounding balconies sit- 
ting high on the summit of a hill, looked sympa- 
thetically over the little cottages around the depot. 
In the rear of this palace stood a great barn with 
cloud reaching spires. In front were colossal gates 
painted green, with white cupolas perched on top. 
Around the premises were lawns, flower gardens, 
and summer houses enbowered with honevsuckles; 



OF AN ILL-SPENT LIFE. 1 29 

all bowing as servants to the stately mansion. The 
afternoon sunlight was streaming in at the win- 
dows, the lace curtains stirred softly, to and fro, 
in the fresh breeze, and I faintly heard the wind 
rustling on the vines as they moaned for my hag- 
gard misery; for this was my home erected regard- 
less of cost to suit my own fantastic taste. Alas! 
it is all gone, for which I hold in exchange, only, 
rebuke and contempt. The romantic story about 
this lovely home would make a book much larger 
than this biography, consequently I leave it for 
another time. But, who does not love his home ? 
"But it ever so humble, there is no place like 
home." Gazing in awe upon the well known spot 
I realized without utterance the true meaning of 
the sweet word farewell] a word called sad, but 
sweeter than all the world to me because I never 
had one. No one was there to say farewell. No 
one shook me by the hand. No one blessed me 
with a kind farewell; but forsaken by those I loved, 
I — God help me! I weep as I write it! — w T as 
driven alone out in the cold world without even a 
farewell. He alone can appreciate a farewell who 
never had one. The author of "home sweet 
home," never had a home. The orphan weeps 
when told of its unknown parents; so there I felt 
within my heart a longing inexpressible for the 
word sweeter than all the world to me — -farewell. 
In this town I had made and lost fortunes, had 



I30 UPS AND DOWNS 

given to charity, and assisted puBlic institutions, 
but not a farewell came. 

It is true Gatesville, you have been ungrateful 
to me, still you are my home, and like a child I 
love you. Within your borders I have played the 
part of gentleman and gambler, prince and beggar, 
politician and merchant. You have called me 
your pet, have paid me ovation and contempt. 
You owe for the life blood flowing through your 
veins. Without me you are nothing. Yes Gates- 
ville you are untrue; but I forgive, and love you 
still, and now — 

"Farewell Forever/' 

The cars moved slowly away. There was the 
same large oak upon which years ago I carved the 
name of two fond lovers. There were the same 
sweet flowers, the same summer house, and I saw 
at a distance two of my old negro servants. 
Doubtless they would have said "farewell" had 
they known "Master Harry" was going. But 
alas, not a voice was heard, as we moved away 
the tears poured down my burning cheeks, and 
my heart throbbed a long farewell, to happiness, 
farewell to peace of mind! farewell to hope and to 
tranquil dreams, farewell to the blessed consola- 
tions of a once happy home, its memories I "never, 
never, can forget." 

" Spare, spare, the old homestead 
>Tis dear to me yet; 
The home of my childhood 
I never, never, can forget.'' 



OF AN ILL-SPENT LIFE. 131 

" Tickets/' the conductor cried. Handing him 
a ten dollar bill, I remarked that "I would ride it 
out." "Where do you want to go," he enquired. 

"Don't care, give me a good ten dollar ride," 
was my reply. 

Sad and lonely I sat unnoticed by the car win- 
dow, going to — God knows where — . Ten dollars 
worth at least. We sped rapidly away through a 
familiar country. The golden afternoon glowed 
and ripened to redness, and dropped at last out of 
the sky; the latest light of day quivered on the 
twilight. The heavens grew purple and faintly 
green; the evening star came out in its amber 
haze, and traveled along with us, seeming to twin- 
kle in pity for the disconsolate. I fell into the 
arms of Morpheus with premonitions of a better 
future; and was awaked by the noise of a city: 
Shreveport, La. 

'City Hotel!" the bus man bawled and I 
crowded into the "always room for one more" 
bus, and soon was registered at the City Hotel 
without baggage. Familiar faces appeared to me 
there, several said, "Hello Watkins," and I wanted 
to get away to a strange land, but could not think 
of any country that I had not already visited when 
on a whiz. Unfortunately I was notoriously known 
in that line. 

Four o'clock on the following morning the por- 
ter knocked at mv room and said, "all aboard for 



I 32 Ul'S AND DOWNS 



Keachei." Chilled and despondent I put on my 
thread bare clothing and took the bus again. The 
bus man collected 50 cents each from the passen- 
gers, traveled a short distance and put us out in 
the dark. It was yet a mile from the depot. The 
rain poured. A kdy was aboard with a little child, 
as I had no baggage, (excepting a dirty pocket 
handkerchief) I offered kindly to carry the child. 
It was dark and gloomy and we had no lantern. 
The woman, child, and myself stepped off the 
sidewalk and fell ten feet below in the mud. The 
child cried! the woman screamed! but no bodv 
hurt; the mud was soft. 

Struggling an hour through mud and rain we at 
last found a large building with not a light in or 
around it; we presumed it however, to be the de- 
pot. No competition with that road. The rain 
poured, the thunders roared, the lightnings flashed, 
the baby cried, but it was better than a drunk. 
Grey morning began to break; the cars came and 
I took late breakfast at Keachei. 

Keachei has two large Baptist schools running 
in opposition. On meeting an old acquaintance 
(a college student) I was invited to attend the 
Friday night's debate, and address the school. 
Gladly I accepted, and after the speech announced 
to lecture at M. E. church the following night, 
where I made a fair impression and received a 
liberal contribution. 



OF AN ILL-SPENT LIFE. 1 3 



9 



Early in the morning it had turned bitterly 
cold. A negro boy called at the hotel with hack 
for depot. After driving a short distance the 
negro attempted to collect double fare from me; 
in consequence of which, I knocked him out of the 
hack w r ith a hickory stick. 

I next visited- town, where I met Mr, , 

a great temperance advocate, and at once recog- 
nized him as the same gentleman who, ten years 
ago, was tried and convicted for stealing a pair of 
pants in Gatesville. I did not say any thing about 
it there, as I would do him no harm. He how- 
ever was polite but nervous, and did not attend 
my lectures. He had been sober all his life. In 
fact I never saw an habitual drunkard, a natural 
thief. 

Louisiana is a grand State, her people are hospi- 
table, kind, and charitable. Professional actors, and 
itinerants say that the sympathies of an audience 
is easier caught in Louisiana than in any of the 
States, consequently I had the cultivation there to 
exhilarate me, and made two thousand dollars in 
twenty nights. 

Amony other cities, I visited the old French town 
of Natchitoches, famous for its age, .romance, and 
history. I believe it is the oldest town in the 
United States. It was the contemplated Capital 
of Aaron Burr's empire, so eloquently pictured by 
Wm. Wirt. It is a Catholic town. The records 



134 UPS AND downs 

in Catholic church date back in the sixteenth cen- 
tury. While there, through curiosity, I attended a 
grand coon (or negro) ball, not however as a parti- 
cipant, but a looker on. 

The song and dance of the southern negro is 
to me always entertaining, Indeed, they are the 
most faithful friends in the world. Who would 
have remained at home to care for his mistress, 
as the plantation negro did during the war? It is 
true, as a race, he is not equal to the white man 
intellectually. But slavery was wrong; a fact to 
which the south is now reconciled, then why do 
Kansas people talk about sending him back to 
Africa? His right here, as an American citizen, 
is equal to that of the white man, and paramount 
certainly to the Chinaman. As a southern man, 
I bespeak for my country; we rejoice that we are 
a government of indissoluble States. 

I next visited town; and met Mr. , a 

leading temperance man, and amen corner brother 
in M. E. church, whom I at once recognized as 
the same gentleman who ten years before had 
borrowed one hundred dollars from me and left 
hurriedly between suns, without returning it; con- 
sequently, after the lapse of so long a time, he 
could not have been expected to remember. 

Yes, he was a member of the church, better 
described by our Saviour as "standing afar off, 
and fasting and praying twice a week." O! he 



OF AN ILL-SPENT LIFE. 1 35 

was pure and holy; said he always voted the right 
ticket, and often made temperance talks to the 
Sunday school; he had discovered a new road to 
heaven, and would have everybody to vote and 
pray in his channel or be damned at once. Sugar 
would not melt in his mouth. Said his heart was 
with me, but objected to my lecturing in the 
church, as, he said they had passed a resolution 
to allow nothing but home talent, and the gospel 
pure and undefiled in the house of God. He 
called me "brother Watkins" and said, I had come 
at the wrong time, that the people w r ere too busy 
to turn out to a lecture. # # # 

After listening for some time in silent disgust, 
to his advice, I bid him good morning, and called 
on the Baptist minister, who kindly received, and 
invited me to lecture in his church, which at eight 
o'clock was packed with eager people. But my 
holy brother wasn't there. 

It w r as not a true Christian spirit, but the more 
I thought of this holy brother, the stronger my 
prejudice grew towards him, until at last, I resolved 
to give him a little individual lecture. 

On taking an evening walk the Baptist pastor 
and I met him in the streets. Politely as possible, 
under the circumstances, I excused myself from 
the good minister, called the "holy brother" aside, 
and gave him a talk about as follows: 

Mr c "If you don't pay me twenty-five dol- 



11,6 UPS AND DOWNS 

lars of the one hundred you borrowed from me, 
right now; I will announce to-night from the pulpit, 
who you are; that you are a thief; and all about you.'" 

Calling the minister up I continued, "If you 
deny this to be true in the presence of brother 
- — — I will bend this cane over your head just to 
get our names in the Police Gazette.'' 

It is useless to add that the twenty-five dollars 
was promptly paid. 

Kind reader, I know I did wrong, and promise 

you not to do so again, but I had been persecuted 

by such "holy brothers" until I could no longer 

control my resentment. 

■## # * # * * # * * * # 

Just here allow me digress. I have never seen 
a church full of resolutions and ordinances that 
was not cold spiritually, and when you hear of a 
church trial, you mark it down, the people have 
not paid the pastor his last year's salary, and he, 
the poor preacher, wears his long face, and talks 
isms, until the cultivated class retire. 

A school with ordinances, rules, and regulations 
read every day is of no account. At Santa Ana, 
Cal., they passed ordinances in the churches to 
prohibit every thing, and the school children were 
instructed not to read circus advertisements on 
Saturdays. I have nothing against these ism 
greenhorns, but a "big y^ller dog" of mine should 
not attend that little school. 



01 AN ILL- LI1 E. 137 

A true Christian spirit is easily imposed upon, 
but what of that? God blesses the Christian 
who "beleiveth and endureth all things," and 
chastises the imposter. 

After traveling a month through Louisiana, one 
afternoon I arrived in the little town of Kay: 
announced to lecture at church, where an average 
fair country town audience gathered at 8 o'clock 
and I made a fair impression. By your permission 
I quote the following from the Kayne, La., Arca- 
dia, Sentinel: On last Wednesday evening our 
people had the privilege of a rare intellectual treat 

rjsistfn^ of a lecture on the horrors of delirium 
tremens by Harry Watkins, a lecturer of a high 
order of talent. Despite the fact that drizzling 
rain set in about sundown and continued until a 
late hour, a large audience assembled at the Me- 
thodist Church, and were held spell hound by the 

ujrer for an hour and a half. The earnestn' 
of the speaker in connection with a happy style of 
oratory, and a most vivid delineation of the hor- 
rors of* delirium tremens captivated all hearers. 
His transition from the humorous to the grave and 
pathetic was so easy and graceful that many found 
themselves laughing tumultuously before their 

rs had dried from weeping. Our people went 
away delighted, declaring that Harry Watkins w; 
the best temperance lecturer in America. 

After dismissing the people, a letter was handed 



I38 UPS AND DOWNS 



me, the contents of which nearly broke my heart. 
Kind reader, I know it is impolite to excite curio- 
sity, but as "w 7 e all think our troubles the greatest" 
you will pardon me for not publishing the letter. 
Take my word for it. I was neither guilty of, or 
accused of any thing. But the letter bore such 
fatal tidings of sorrow. I wished the day "might 
perish, wherein I was born." 

Without a thought as to the dreadful conse- 
quences I rushed into a saloon and — God help 
me ! I fell. The first drink did not drown my 
troubles, so with jolly laugh and anecdote I called 
for another, inviting the bar tender to join me. It 
was late in the night and no one was .there, save the 
saloon man and I. He was not at the lecture and 
did not know me, consequently was the companion 
I sought, and soon we were both intoxicated. 

Be not so ungenerous as to let me suffer in 
your good opinion through my own forbearance 
and regard for your comfort. No, believe all 
that I ask of you, namely, that I could resist it 
no longer — believe it liberally, and as an act of 
grace, or else in mere prudence, I could not pos- 
sibly resist it. My moments were numbered; my 
strife was finished; my vision was closed; I was 
doomed; I was intoxicated. Oh, Guardian Spirit ! 
Why didst thou forsake me? Glance of eye, thought 
of man, wing of angel, raving of hurricanes, and 
speed of lightnings was too slow to have saved me. 



OF AN ILL-SPENT LIFE. 1 39 

Presently sorrow left me. I was exhilarated, 
delighted, enchanted with sin, for the relapse had 
not yet come. No God was there, to ' 'frown on 
the temples of sin," the floors were tesselated with 
"unrestrained indulgences," the fountains were 
tossing with wine and joy. The bar-keeper and 
I were drinking to health and gladness, when the 
clock struck three in the morning, the cars whis- 
tled for Rayne station, and I took a sleeper for — 
I don't know where, but have a faint recollection 
of landing in Cedar Keys, Florida. 

I cannot tell you much about Cedar Keys. In 
fact I do not believe I would recognize it again. 
I must have left there however, for I next found 
myself in West Lake Charles, La., where the re- 
lapse came. In a strange town I took the delirium 
tremens. 

Any man can tell you his hallucinations with 
delirium so long as he lives. Whereas when sim- 
ply intoxicated he remembers nothing. About 
midnight I awoke in a lonely room and wondered 
where I "was. It seemed tome that I lived a hun- 
dred years in one night, nay, "sometimes had feel- 
ings representative of a millennium, passed in that 
time, or, however, of a duration far beyond any 
human experience." I once read of a lady who had 
fallen into a river, "and being on the very verge 
of death, but for the critical assistance which 
reached her, she saw in a moment her whole life, 



I4O UPS AND DOWNS 



in its minutest incidents, arrayed before her simul- 
taneously as in a mirror," and so it was with me, 
forgotten acts of childhood and scenes of later 
years were all revived. 

When a boy, I saw a Grecian monk, and it now 
appeared plain as life to me, that the same 
Grecian monk sat by my bed, in his long red gown 
and red skull cap, his hair and beard was so long 
that it lay upon the floor. The door suddenly 
opened and three other monks came in, and sat on 
the bed around me. They said nothing but 
whispered to each other, and pointed at me in 
fiendish glee. After a few moments they slowly 
withdrew 7 . 

Then came sudden alarms; hurryings to and 
fro; darkness and lights, human faces, faces of the 
dead, faces that were worth all the world to me, 
but they only gazed upon me and went away. 
Trembling I arose and looked out the window, 
and it seemed that the face of the earth was set 
out in tombstones, with inscriptions written in gold 
letters, 

In memory of Harry Watkins 
Died with Delirium Tremens. 

I reflected for a moment that it was imagination 
and laid down, when the door flew open and in- 
numerable headless devils sprang at me. They 
were of all sizes, shapes, and colors, some were 
about the size of a Texas Prairie dog, and only 






OF AN ILL-SPENT LIFE. I4I 

would bark, but the large ones got up on the bed 
and mashed me almost to death. The first oppor- 
tunity I ran out of the room from the devils, and 
in reality fell into a well. An old negro man as- 
sisted me out. Day was now breaking and I saw 
a store open. With dripping clothing and chatter- 
ing teeth I could scarcely speak, but managed to 
make my wants known to the merchant who gave 
me several drinks of alcohol which I then needed 
to quiet mv nerves. It is useless to describe the 
horrors that haunted me night after night in West 
Lake Charles. Suffice it, I am yet alive, but could 
not stand it again, my constitution is wrecked and 
I have lost all of the powers of endurance. 

I will always remember the people of West Lake 
Charles, for had it not been for their kindness, I 
surely would have died. Stranger as I was, they 
sat up with me and gave me every attention. A 
mother could not have been more attentive to 
her own child. It seemed that Providence sym- 
pathized with my weakness and placed me in good 
hands for a purpose. Of course after I was able 
to walk around I took a stimulant under the direc- 
tion of a physician for a month. To have taken 
it away from me, all at once, would have been 
death. When a man is recovering from delirium 
he needs stimulants. 

Jeremy Taylor conjectures " that it may be as 
painful to be born as to die." I think it probable; 



I42 UPS ANL DOWNS 

and, during the whole period of diminishing the 
liquor, I had the torments of a man passing out 
of one mode of existence into another. 




NOTES BY THE AUTHOR. 

By the help of God, I can now promise my 
readers a final reformation. My only aim in this 
book has been to point out human nature, and 
warn the rising young man against the evils which 
attend a dissipated life. Doubtless some one will 
consider it an exaggerated experience, but not so. 
My experiences, if possible, have been ten thousand 
times worse than I could possibly picture them. 
The subsequent chapters in part 2, viz.: Experi- 
ences through New Mexico, Arizona and Cali- 
fornia, are founded upon facts, but written in comic 
style for California papers. Be not so uncharitable 
as to condemn the truth of previous statements 
on account of the ridiculousness in what may 
follow. 



PRESS NOTICES. 

Throughout the United States a great many 
criticisms have been passed on Harry Watkins, 
and truly some unkind ones. Having traveled 
with him for a considerable time, I presume to 
know something of his nature, which, without bias 
or prejudice, is about as follows: Too gay, or too 
sad, all love or all hate, he speaks as he writes 
and expresses his convictions regardless of public 
sentiment, or consequences. 

His lectures may be described somewhere be- 
tween a picnic and a funeral. If he looks at his 
audience and likes it, both he and the audience 
fall in love, and he moves them either to laughter 
or tears at will. On the other hand, should he 
look at his audience and dislike it, he becomes 
disgusted and refuses to speak. Destitute of 
policy, he sometimes too freely expresses himself. 
However sensitive in his nature, he is very sym- 
pathetic, and charitable, and makes a warm and 
liberal friend, never failing to give alms and atten- 
tion to the fallen. 



OF AN ILL-SPENT LIFE. 1 45 

Harry Watkins is not only a reformed man but 
a Christian gentleman. His wayward disposition 
has brought a criticism on his sincerity, being led 
off easily by those in whom he confides, but, like 
David, of old, he quickly repents. 

I have heard him lecture on many pathetic sub- 
jects, in all of which, he appealed to the heart and 
sympathies, never referring to politics. Though 
versed high in the intricacies of government and 
political economy he never uses it in his lectures. 
To make a long story short, with all his eccentri- 
cities and weak points, he may be termed a 
natural tragedian, and born genius. — E. B. H., 
Santa Barbara Independent, 

Harry Watkins, a reformed drunkard of Texas, 
lectured at the Presbyterian church on last Wed- 
nesday evening to a large and appreciative audi- 
ence, on the subject of " Gambling and Dissipa- 
tion." His eloquence held the entire house spell- 
bound for nearly two hours, something which no 
other traveling lecturer has ever done in this town, 
and we have had many. The common temperance 
lecturer in comparison with Harry's talk is indeed 
a frail affair. Harry does not harp on prohibition, 
politics, nor the old thread-bare theme, temperance. 
But as a reformed drunkard and gambler he 
simply relates his own experience; which is most 
horrible, almost beyond the imagination of those 
who have never traveled in the same boat. 



I46 UPS AND DOWNS 

He gives a bit of his experience starting from 
his first drink, wending his way down into the 
deepest and lowest dives and gambling dens of 
the nation, until suddenly he is attacked with the 
delirium tremens; here he sees everything terrible, 
he is in frightful agony. He occasionally soars to 
the sublime, he walks the golden streets of the 
heavenly city when suddenly he is transmitted 
down into the deepest pits of hell, where he views 
green eyed monsters and the whole world turns 
into demons, before his eyes of imagination. Per- 
haps there is no other man on terra firma that can 
equal the word picture of this hellish road as related 
by Harry Watkins, who has been there. 

In connection with Harry's lecture our people 
were entertained by E. B. Higgins, formerly of the 
Higgins Bros., Chicago, famous over the world 
as singers, and his son Fred, who has no equal as 
a whistler. Fred entertained the audience to its 
highest musical pitch with his comic songs and 
imitation of the mocking bird. Fred is looked 
upon as having a wonderful musical mouth. He 
fills the house with song and whistle. He amuses 
and entertains everybody. Harry's lecture and 
this musical treat was a grand feast for our citizens. 

At the close of the lecture Harry invited all 
who wished to have them stop on their way back 
from San Luis Obispo to their feet. Like an elec- 
tric movement the entire audience found them- 



OF AN ILL-SPENT LIFE. 



H7 



selves in a standing position. — Santa Maria 
Times. 




CHAPTER XVII. 

START FOR CALIFORNIA DEMING, N. M. THE SINGLE 

SPARTAN SOLDIER COWBOYS DEMING GAMBLERS 

EMIGRANT TRAIN — - TUCSON ■ — YUMA — MOJAVE 

DESERT CALIFORNIA THE HALF HAS NOT BEEN 

TOLD LOS ANGELES OLD FRIENDS AND NEW 

SIGHTS. 

I left West Lake Charles with San Francisco 
as my aim, hoping to get away from acquaintances. 
Nothing very curious happened until I reached 
Deming, New Mexico. Stopping off a day and 
night in San Antonio, I went through the old 
Alamo building, about which so much has been said 
in history and romance. On enteringthe building, 
a serious looking old Texas veteran adjusted his 
spectacles wisely and looked at me for a moment 
and said, in a soft but commanding voice: Re- 
gister your name. 

After the preliminaries, the veteran took a drink 
of water "opened his mouth," and taught me, 
saying: 

Travis, Crockett, Bowie and Milane all fell 



OF AN IL1-SPENT LIFE. 1 49 

here; pausing for a moment to study the sentiment 
of his audience, he continued: 1S2 Texans bravely 
struggled for our Independence against 5000 
Mexicans here, and had it not been for circum- 
stances unavoidable, no doubt, sir, we would have 
gained the victory. We killed 1800 Mexicans 
before our ammunition was exhausted. # # # 
Here he rehearsed to me separately the life, char- 
acter, anecdotes, and death of those who occupied 
the Alamo, pointing out the very spot, where each 
one died, for the liberty of his country. 

For an hour I was held, beautifully, spell bound 
by the old man's eloquent descriptions. In fact, 
in this trained speech, he had the history of Texas 
on the end of his tongue, but, as he waxed into 
the pathetic, I became wearied of the sameness in 
his voice and gestures. Determined however to 
go through, if life would permit, I looked him 
square in the face as he continued. 

The single Spartan soldier was left to bear home 
the fatal tidings from Thermopylae, but from the 
Alamo not a Texan here was left to tell the tale," 
(I answered, ''Yes Sir.") "Brave, noble, and true 
Sam Houston returned good for evil by sparing 
the life of Santa Anna."' 

Yes sir, said I. 

"And the story of our Independence," (said he) 
"reads like an ancient fable. Baptized on the 
San Jacinto, nearly a semi centennial ago, in the 



150 UPS AND DOWN 



glorious cause of freedom, our forefathers scarce 
fifty thousand strong, but armed with right, won 
a decisive victory against eight million of people.'' 

Oh yes! says I. 

This worthy guide, is the right man in the right 
place; he never tires, but takes pleasure in 
telling the same memorized story twenty times a 
day. My room at the Manger hotel was near the 
Alamo, and all during the day, 1 could hear his 
voice ring out, to tourists passing through the 
Alamo: "The single Spartan soldier was left to 
bear home the fatal tidings from Thermopylae/' 

It was impossible to leave my hotel without 
passing the Alamo, and each time I passed, his 
melodious voice rang out: "The single Spartan 
soldier was left to bear home the fatal tidings 
from Thermopylae.'* 

Silence for a moment, and the tourist answered, 
"Yes sir." 

San Antonio is a city of plazas, beautiful Span- 
ish girls, hot tomales and beer gardens. Late at 
night, I retired to my lonely room. Raising the 
window to gaze upon the broad blue sky, and 
inhale the gentle breezes of spring time, my atten- 
tion was attracted to a light in the Alamo, and I 
heard a voice ring out clear and distinct: " The 
single Spartan soldier was left to bear home the 
fatal tidings from Thermopylae." 

In wild despair I rushed down stairs and 



OF AN ILL-SPENT LIFE. I5I 

requested from the clerk, a room on the opposite 
side of the building, where I sweetly slept and 
dreamed that "the single Spartan soldier was left 
to bear home the fatal tidings from Thermopylae." 

After traveling- over Western Texas and Mex- 
ico, passing through the old Mission, and review- 
ing the Mexican soldiers at Del Norte, and doing 
something, I will never (for humanity's sake) be 
guilty of again; namely, attending a bull fight, I 
at la t struck the famous town — Deming, New 
Mexico; famous for its concentrated essence of 
pure rascality. Deming does not present the 
appearance of a frontier, cowboy town; entirely 
different. Deming is the town a cow boy would 
rejoice to take in. 

By way of illustration, I will try to explain. In 
1879, I lived in the Pan Handle with the cow 
boys. For months, we did not see a woman, or 
child, in consequence of which, the boys grew 
rough; that is, when we boys did go to town, it 
was a shame, if we did not get drunk, roll ten 
pins, run horse races up and down the streets, fire 
off pistols, and tell the people "to hide away," for 
we had come. We would ride through the stores 
and saloons for a change, and, with a Comanche 
yell, swear that we "had crossed Chisms trail and 
gone wild." "Wild and woolly, and hard to curry." 
"Got great long hair on my teeth" is a cow boy 
expression. It was every body's religion to get 



I $2 UPS AND DOWNS 

all the money possible out of the cow boy. If the 
town Marshal could arrest one, he was called a 
dandy, and promoted to a high office. 

I will state by way of parenthesis, however, 
that he was seldom promoted. When the cow 
boys came, he had business matters to look after 
in the country, and left the town in charge of the 
cow boys. But when the boys returned to camp, 
they were sick, and penitent, and would talk about 
a mother and sister in the States. Perhaps, if a 
church had been within two or three hundred 
miles, they would have joined it. The average 
cow boy is all friend or enemy. Any one is wel- 
come at his camp to stay so long as he 
chooses. 

But Deming was entirely the opposite, when I 
looked at "her," I longed to close her up. I can 
neither describe my feelings or the town. Dante 
described hell, but, he would have failed on Dem- 
ing. I know of no better appellation than h 1 

on earth. Along the front street were signs over 
the doors, such as; Alice, Cora, Mollie, Black 
Eyed Susie. # # # 

I have read Mr. Beecher on gambling; have 
looked at the gambling dens from New York City 
to San Francisco, from Washington Territory to 
San Diego, on the seas, and in foreign countries, 
but never before felt so indignant over a game of 
chance. 



OF AN ILL-SPENT LIFE. 1 53 

A saloon answered as hotel office for ladies and 
gentlemen. 

A painted female was playing on the piano. 
Around her stood a half a dozen others, robed in 
peculiar attire, who did not seem to enjoy the 
music, but frowned and looked as if they had just 
landed in torment and did not know how to get 
away. 

In this house of darkness, and fierce faces, 
oleamincr with the fire of fiercer hearts, sat four 
men around a table. Pale, watchful, though weary, 
their eyes pierced the cards or furtively read 
each other's faces. 

Understand me, they were not shrewd, but 
hideous, ghastly, horrible! They never spoke or 
whispered, but continued the game in silence. 
Occasionally a hard faced gambler would arise 
from the table, walk up to the bar, motion for 
whiskey, drink alone and return to the game. No 
one treated. 

Hours thus passed away. At length they rose 
without words; some, with a satisfaction which only 
made their faces brightly haggard, scraped off the 
money; others, dark, sullen, silent, fierce, move 
away from their lost money. Those who had won 
drank alone. Those who had lost stood back. 

The cow boy treats, and talks a great deal, but 
the Deming gamblers did not. The Deming 
gambler uses the meanest way of doing the dirtiest 



154 UPS AND downs 



thing. The victim's own partner was sucking his 
blood, by cheating and robbing him in silence. 

Sunday' is same as w r eek days, only business 
appears some better. 

Silver City is fifty miles from Deming, and 
seems more animated, but it is tough. The gam- 
blers in Silver City occasionally speak to each 
other, and may perhaps have a drop of human 
kindness left. I do not believe New Mexico will 
ever become a State. Of course, like Sodom and 
Gomorrah, a few respectable families live there; 
but, in the main, they are an illiterate, uncouth set; 
incapable of self government. 

Weary with New Mexico, I boarded a crowded 
emigrant car for Arizona. Americans, French, 
Chinese, Dutch, Malays, in fact, a representative 
of all parts of the Union and the nations, were on 
the cars. They smoked, eat, slept, and spit all 
together on the floor. Men, women, and children 
slept in heaps; and I was permitted to inhale the 
sweet fragrance from the feet of many nations. 
Old socks were hung up to dry. The children 
cried. The American women sung, "by your 
baby." I could not understand what the Dutch 
women said; guess it was good. 

It is best to travel on an emigrant car when 
you are broke, that is, if you live to overcome the 
first whiff. 

Emigrants see everything, hear everything, and 



OF AN ILL-SPENT LIFE. 1 55 

run out at every little depot to enquire the distance 
to the next town. 

Late at night overcome with fatigue I fell into 
the arms of Morpheus and dreamed that the single 
Spartan soldier was left to bear home the fatal tid- 
ing from Thermopylae." 

In the morning after the birds had finished 
their matins, when the sun had advanced full high, 
and the dew had gone from the grass, strangled 
by a sock I awake in Tucson. 

A few moments agfo I said Deminor wa s h 1 

on earth, but now, I have found a real h 1. 

No earth about it. Tucson is h 1 No. I. 

Walking up town I was greeted by the blazing 
sun at the rate of a iio°, while yet the perspira- 
tion was pouring from me, I registered my name 
on a two bit blotter at Palace Hotel, and was 
shown to my room by a Spanish chambermaid, who 
remarked, in broken English, that it was a "nice 
cool morning." 

In the language of Thos. Jefferson, Poca- 
hontas, -or some other great man, it sometmes in 
the course of human events becomes necessary to 
"hustle," and without a nickel in Tucson, it be- 
came necessary with me. 

After considerable effort, I prevailed on the 
editor of a four column daily to announce " Harry 
Watkins, the wit of the West, will deliver a comic 
lecture to-night. Doors open at 7*30, stage fright 



156 UPS ANl downs 

takes place at 8/' # # About two hundred 
people, I suppose, came out, mainly foreigners, 
who could not speak English, or understand a 
word I said. The truth is, they were fooled out 
to this lecture. They thought a comic lecturer 
was some peculiar kind of animal. When I began 
to talk, I could see they were waiting in suspense 
for something. I told some regular side splitters, 
but they never cracked a smile, They were wait- 
ng for the monkey to come out. Several China- 
men left. The monotony of the occasion was 
broken by a Mexican in the audience who said: 
^Donde esta el animal que nos hiba muestrar ? (or 
where is the animal you advertised to show; we 
are waiting/') and the evening's entertainment 
was suddenly brought to a close. 

Returning to my hotel, with feelings intermin- 
gled, between fear and stage fright, I lit a cigar to 
quiet my nerves, and took a seat in the front cor- 
ridor. Two Mexicans engaged in a row on the 
streets attracted my attention. I was satisfied, from 
general manuevers, that they were taking the 
name of the Lord in vain; finally one Mexican 
with a heinous look, drew a large knife and cut 
the head of his antagonist entirely off. This, in- 
deed was a brutal affair. The blood streamed, and 
the headless body of the poor dead man dropped 
on the street. 

The citizens paid but very little attention to so 



OF AN ILL-SPENT LIFE. 1 57 

small an affair, except one miner, sitting by, re- 
marked that it was a "d — n clean job." China- 
town in San Francisco, is Paradise compared to 
Tucson. 

Arizona wants the reserved right of local self 
government, but Uncle Sam is too smart for that. 

Disgusted with Tucson or h 1 No. i, I 

sought a better land. On the cars I dreamed about 
the Mexican with his head cut off. Earlv in the 
morning at the dawn of day, when all nature was 
smiling, while the birds were singing to gladden 
approaching day in some other country, for they 
didn't have any birds in Arizona, while the 
maidens were yet sweetly dreaming, and the 
honest old farmers were bawling out for "Sallie 
to get up and get breakfast," I awoke in Yuma. 

O! Yuma, sweet Yuma! In the language of 
Eli Perkins, the boss liar of the universe, " You 
are a dandy." O! that I could tell of thee with the 
pen of a De Quincey. 

When first I saw thee, moonlight and the timid 
tremblings of the daw T n were blending; and the 
shading was brought into a still more exquisite 
state of unity by a slight silvery mist, motionless 
and dreamy; that covered the woods and fields. 
But they covered the woods and fields in 'some 
other land, for sweet Yuma, you had none. No 
beautiful glades where shafts of golden light pierce 
the thick foliage of the stately trees, and lay with 



1$8 UPS AND DOWNS 

the dancing shadows on the grass, around, or 
about thee. 

You are a barren, burning waterless desert. 
You have no "cold pure spring bursting from the 
gravelly bed of a green oasis," where the weary 
traveler can quench his thirst. O, no, Yuma! 
when the traveler strikes you, he must " keep a 
gwine" or starve. 

Deming is hard, Tucson is harder, Yuma is 
hardest. 

The minister finds degrees in Heaven and 
h 1, so it was with these towns. The ther- 
mometer that morning in Yuma stood at 120°. 
Another chambermaid, showed me my room and 
remarked that it was a pleasant morning. I as- 
sented by a gentle nod. Didn't open my mouth 
for fear my tongue would catch fire. 

The population of Yuma consists of 1 450 1 ndians, 
350 gamblers, 300 convicts, and 1 gentleman. 
Arizona penitentiary is in Yuma. I do not sup- 
pose however, they would send the Mexican to 
the penitentiary for the trifle of cutting a man's 
head off. I heard of no witnesses being subpoenaed. 

As you have read so much about this famous 
town, I will not weary you with a long story. 
Several years ago an unfortunate citizen of Yuma 
died and w r ent to torment, and had to send back for 
his blankets to keep warm, on account of the sud- 
den change of climate. I traveled through a por- 



OF AN ILL-SPENT LIFE. 1 59 

tion of Arizona several years since, and found a 
very nice town; Phoenix, 

Across the Colorado river from Yuma, is the 
great Mojave desert, not inhabited, but several 
hundred miles wide. Strange, this great desert 
was once a sea, It takes a rapid locomotive all 
day to cross it, during which time you can enjoy 
the dust and sand. The cars stop for dinner in 
the middle of the desert, and it is a great pleasure 
to see the tourist blow, and puff, and swear to 
travel no more, and pay 75 cts for a first class 10 
cent meal 

Away we fly for California, to "love among the 
roses." No tongue can tell,or pen can picture beauti- 
ful California. After leaving the hot desert, we pass- 
ed through orange orchards, alfalfa fields. All sorts 
of fruits and flowers were blooming and ripening, 
the grape vine twined around the hill side. Shady 
walnut groves with clear sparkling streams of 
water passing through the center. Lakes, silvery 
expanses of water. White cottages embowered 
with flowering shrubs, so chosen as to unfold a 
succession of flowers upon the walls, and cluster- 
ing around the windows through all the months; 
and such pomp of cities and palaces as was never 
beheld by the waking eye. 

California, "I have heard of thee/' but "not half 
had been told me." The fruit, ruddy and golden 
on the tree, seemed to laugh at the passing tourist 



l60 UPS AND DOWNS 



The rivers foaming and fretting clear beneath the 
green boughs spreading above; the blue sky over 
all appeared like a dream to me. The sun sank 
to rest beneath the waters of the great Pacific, 
The pale moon beamed upon the path of night. 
The bells were ringing. The gongs were rattling. 
The lights were glittering; and the brakeman 
cried aloud: 

"Los Angeles." 

People were thick as bees. Broadway is quiet 
compared to Los Angeles. Policemen were busy 
clearing the way. Emigrants were herded like so 
many cattle. Men, women and children were 
wedged in together. The city was light as day. 
Electric lights every where. Bands of music; 
whistling engines; rattling vehicles all blended 
their voices together. Cries of look out for pick- 
pockets, (perhaps from a pick pocket) but no body 
could move for human souls. 

In the zenith of excitement a voice rung out 
clear above the rest, "Hello Harry!" and I recog- 
nized two old friends, W, A. Dabbs and S. D. 
Crittenden. 

My friends showed me the sights of the city, and 
entertained me a week. We looked through some 
sort of a glass at Mrs. Langtry, I had rather look 
at her than to hear her, would give her a dollar 
extra to stand still and let me look at her. We 
heard Mr. Wendel lecture and attended the read- 



OF AN ILL-SPENT LIFE. l6l 

ings of the notorious fraud who travels on his 
father's reputation — "Chas. Dickens." This all 
cost money. 

And then we saw Salvation Armies; old bald 
headed men, and grey haired women flying on 
velocipedes. This was free. In Texas, it would 
have cost a dollar a seat, to a packed house. I 
liked it much better than the Dickens readings. 




CHAPTER XV1IL 

HIS WILDLY ENTHUSIASTIC LETTER TO AN OLD PARD 
CAPTURED BY AN INDEPENDENT REPORTER. 

Gatesville, Texas, June 15, 1888.— Dear Harry: 
I learned through the newspapers that you are in 
San Francisco. Please write me how you like the 
climate of California; what are the advantages 
there for a young man with small means and large 
experience ? Would an old bachelor stand any 
show for a wife ? Write me all about it. *. * * 

Your Friend, Jno. 1 

the reply. 

San Marcos Hotel, ) 

Santa Barbara, CaL, July 5, 1888.) 
Dear John; Yours of the 15th prox., addressed 
to me at San Francisco, was received here to-day. 
No, John, I am not in San Francisco, but in beau- 
tiful Santa Barbara, and am delighted to give an 
old chum all information possible as regards this 
fair land. 

When I arrived here and gazed around me an 
impression was made that, to say the least, was 



OF AN ILL-SPENT LIFE. 1 63 

lasting. Santa Barbara to me is the favored spot 
— the oarden f t ] ie State, and the Paradise of the 
universe. u No clearer and bluer sky ever spread 
over the fair land of Italy than is canopied over 
Santa Barbara." 

Pick up the Associated Press dispatches and 
read to a Native Son of the Golden West of the 
one hundred and sixty-nine deaths in one Eastern 
city alone, from sun strokes, in twenty-four hours; 
and he can not realize it, for it is neither hot nor 
cold here. Tell him about the blizzards in Kansas, 
and the vast herds of sheep and cattle frozen on 
the prairies of Texas; and it interests him like a 
fable. 

You ask about the climate. I might tell you 
about the climate of San Francisco or Los An- 
geles, but can not give Santa Barbara its real 
merit. Go in your imagination and roam among 
the palmy groves of Japan; love beneath the ban- 
yan shades of India; sing and dance and dream of 
naught but love beneath the soft cerulean skies of 
sunny Italy; ride in the gondolas of Venice; stand 
on the sunny slopes of Spain and breathe an at- 
mosphere that tints with purest blue the domes. 
And then return to America and find here the 
world's Eden — Santa Barbara. Here the birds 
sing, the flowers bloom, the hills are mantled in 
green, and nature is wreathed in smiles even at 
the dawn of the new year. 



164 UPS AND DOWNS 

This evening, sitting in the library of the great 
San Marcos Hotel, I look out upon the broad 
ocean peacefully resting in its fathomless bed, and 
enjoy the slight breeze, balmy with the breath of 
the orange and magnolia. 

Come along, John, and bring your experience 
with you! This is the place to make or lose a 
fortune. Property, like a bale of cotton, is worth 
so much every day. Life is too short! Leave that 
drouthy country and come to a haven of rest. 
Walk a few paces with me and see the "ocean 
gently laving the white, sandy beach, the islands 
looking the very picture of peace and content- 
ment, as they rest on the quiet bosom of the grand 
old Pacific." 

John, I would advise you to come at once. 

I can walk a few hundred yards and see one of 
the largest grape vines in the world, the stem of 
which is fourteen inches in diameter, I can taste 
all the fruits known to-day to the tropical or tem- 
perate zones. I can walk through gardens laid out 
in broad avenues, shaded by immense trees, and 
see hedges of camellias, blooming red and white, 
while you are freezing there. I can take a seat 
under a tree in the yard of this magnificent 
hotel, that spreads its sylvan shades over the 
green grass and imagine for a moment that I am 
king of the universe, while you have a sun stroke 
there. 



OF AN ILL-SPENT LIFE. 1 65 

A few days since, as the rosy sunset blushed 
like the cheek of a maiden, a beautiful Spanish 
eirl led me to the side of the sea shore, where we 
watched the landing of the Santa Rosa with a 
thousand soldiers, come to spend their vaca- 
tion in the home of the brave and the land of 
the free. 

I can now hear bells ringing, gongs rattling, 
summer cars running, bands of music playing, and 
the thump of a piano accompanied by the voice of 
a sw^eet lady in the parlor. 

Yes, John, I would advise you to come at once. 
If you have not the money to buy your ticket, 
take a nigh cut through the woods afoot. I will 
meet you on the road with a brass band and a 
dollar in money. 

The more I look at this city, the better I like 
it, John. I can walk down stairs and behold a 
street two miles long paved with asphaltum as 
pure and white as marble. I can see a salvation 
army within twenty steps of a Wizard Oil Com- 
pany, both bawling away in competition. It 
is all free, and I like it because it is free. If a man 
has merit in him here he succeeds. To be some 
great man's great grandson amounts to nothing 
here. Bring along true merit with you and you 
will get there. This is the place where innocence 
is equity and talent is triumph, and where the 
exile from every land finds a home where his 



l66 UPS AND DOWNS 



youth may be crowned with the unmolested hope 
of a glorious immortality." 

This is a cosmopolitan city. 

The people having come from all parts of the 
Union and nations, none is asked aught of his reli- 
gion, his politics, or his ancestral blood. While 
churches spire the country road, still you can join 
or not join the one you choose, no ism here. You 
can holler either for Cleveland or Harrison and 
not get knocked down, and if you are a good run- 
ner you may "fetch" a little Prohibition squeal and 
not get egged or jugged. 

Come at once, John, we will dine at California's 
leading hotel, (the San Marcos) and have straw- 
berries in December. We will walk through gar- 
dens sweet with roses, and through semi-circular 
lawns bordered at each side by large old lime 
trees, arching over like aisles of a cathedral. 
We will sit upon the grass fresh and green, where 
the tender hues of spring never fade into autumn 
brown, and talk of gold and heaven; forgetting 
that we ever had to draw meal from the State of 
Texas to keep from starving. 

#40? •*£■ -^ •& 4ik 4fc 

•Tr *7V" "TV* 'TV* "7v" *7V 

Yesterday, John, was the Fourth of July, and 
you should have been here. 

Twelve thousand people lined both sides of the 
streets to witness the grand parade; a parade more 
majestic than a New Orleans exposition, or Phila- 



OF AN ILL-SPENT LIFE. 1 67 

delphia centennial. It was not yet eight o'clock; 
the air crisp with the youthfulness of a delicious 
morning, and the sea was only beginning to 
sparkle in tender sunshine, when I stood upon the 
house top and watched it pass. 

There were thousands dressed in uniforms. Col. 
Shafter's regiment wore tan-colored leggins, and 
marched up the streets by platoons; the colors fly- 
ing, the bands playing and the muskets glistening 
in the sun, made a spectacle worth your walking 
from Texas to see, John. 

On the grounds I heard a dozen or more 
speeches on the Declaration of Independence. 
Some of the speeches were good; some approached 
the eloquent, and some told the same old story 
about the American eagle. The " Sword of 
Bunker Hill," sung alone by Mr. Beers without 
accompaniment was worth a dollar a seat, but I 
heard it free. And the Red, White and Blue 
rendered in the sweet voice of the lovely and fas- 
cinating Miss Daykin, thrilled my soul with emo- 
tion, such as I had seldom experienced before. 
John, don't fail to come ! Your old pard. Harry. 

P. S. — You ask if there is any show for an old 
bachelor to get a wife here. 

I think so, there is no accounting for the affec- 
tions of a woman in this country, several of them 
are stuck after me! Bring your false teeth and wig 
and I will see you through. 



CHAPTER XIX. 

HE EMPLOYS A LAUGHER AND A WEEPER THE LAT- 
TER TAKES THE CAKE. 

Human nature is a strange arrangement. If 
you don't believe it try the part of a comic lecturer. 
At Lordsburg, Texas, I addressed an English au- 
dience and told yarns, regular side-splitters, for 
two hours; yarns gathered around the world and 
practiced on before the glass, for months; still 
they never brought the twinkle of an eye or the 
crack of a smile; indeed it appeared like a funeral 
You could have heard a pin drop, so intense was 
the silence. After dismissing the audience I be- 
came alarmed for fear an egg party might be 
arranged out doors, and w r alked unnoticed in a 
crowd of ladies, but never heard an expression 
concerning the comic lecture, save from one old 
woman, who remarked that she "believed that that 
lecturer was crazy." 

In Deming, New Mexico, I delivered a pathetic 
lecture, and told about the dear departed and 
death bed scenes, calculated to bring tears from a 



OF AN ILL-SPENT LIFE. 1 69 

stone. But a slight grin and look of enquiry at 
each other was all the exhilaration I received from 
that loving people. I was satisfied my lectures 
were good, because my mother always said I was 
the coming prodigy. 

Unfortunately no one else ever noticed any 
prodigy about me. 

So now, away out in California, without friends, 
money or any other vocation, save that of an un- 
successful lecturer, it became necessary to make a 
grand change. What shall I do for appreciation ? 
I soliloquized. Seized with a thought, quicker 
than greased lightning, I rushed to the Indepen- 
dent office and advertised: "Wanted a partner," 
an elocutionist, a man or lady who can laugh 
whether he or she feels like it or not. None but 
the experienced need apply. 

After pacing the streets until a late hour in the 
night, restlessly awaiting the results of my adver- 
tisement, T retired to my room in the San Marcos 
Hotel and dreamed; that a thousand maids with 
arms like Aurora's and smiles like Hebe's were 
imploring me for the position. Generously, I em- 
ployed them all, and then joyous laughter rang 
far out in the night air. Ah, sweet maids, how 
lovely they were, dancing in happy dreamland with 
me, amid music and incense, and blossoms from 
forests; amid natural caroling and the echoes of 
girlish laughter. 



170 UPS AND DOWN 



I lectured at Burton Mound. A gate fee of 
five dollars per head was charged, yet standing 
room could not be obtained even in the ten acre 
lot. My receipts were something over a hundred 
thousand. My maids were all around me and 
laughed a sweet mermaiden laugh, at the simplest 
thing I told, which was caught up by the vast 
assembly, and echoed far away to the island of 
Anacapa. The everlasting gates of summer were 
thrown wide open; and on the beach of the ocean, 
tranquil and verdant as a savannah, we sang, and 
danced, and loved, and laughed away. 

After a few lectures I made millions untold, 
and married separately, collectively, and indivi- 
dually, my thousand laughing maids; (it took three 
days to perform the ceremony.) And then we 
sailed, far away to Anacapa Island, of which I was 
King. There amid wooing gales of domestic hap- 
piness, I built a large laughing temple, (something 
like King Solomon's) and passed a decree, that no 
man, save I, should ever come there. 

A beautiful little Queen came to see me, (some- 
thing like the Queen of Sheba) and brought me 
jewels, and gold, and said not half had been told 
her; then the queen and my thousand maids all 
blessed me with a kiss, and laughed, and when I 
awoke I laughed aloud — 

"It's all a dream !" 

I hurriedly dressed and walked down stairs with 



OF AN ILL-SPENT LIFE. I/I 

feelings I can not well describe; something be- 
tween a laugh and disappointment. On entering 
the crowded dining room, a gentlemen with bald 
head and chin whiskers, elegantly dressed in a 
paper collar and shoe fly cravat, accosted me with 
a broad grin on his face and said: — 

"Good morning, sir ! are you Mr. Watkins ?" 

"Watkins is my name." 

"Fred L. Higgins is my name, better known in 
Santa Barbara as the boss laugher of the universe, 
sir, ha! ha!" 

"I'm glad to meet you, Colonel — just going in 
to breakfast, won't you join me?" 

The Colonel nodded a thank you and continued: 
— "I notice from the evening paper, sir, that you 
want an elocutionist; a professional man of learn- 
ing, sir; a man mirthful and ridiculous, ha! ha! A 
man merry, joyous, happy, lively, gay, vivacious, 
sprightly, sportive, sir; who can bring the house 
down — in other words, a patent laugher, sir, ha! ha!" 

The guests in the dining room gazed at us and 
smiled, (for a moment profound silence), then I 
raised my eyes and caught the Colonel's smile, 
and smiled in return, to which the Colonel replied: 

Ha! ha!" 

To which I replied, aside, ha! ha! 
Several ladies tittered. The Colonel roared ! 
Then I roared ! And we all roared ! O, he was a 
laugher from Laugherville. 



\J2 UPS ANi. DOWNS 



He rattled the windows, and upset the butter 
laughing. He broke up breakfast, knocked down 
the stovepipe laughing. We arose to leave the 
table but couldn't walk for laughing. We caught 
each other around the neck and laughed until the 
dining room shook for an hour after we left it. 

4 'You are the right man," I tried to say, but 
could get out nothing but " ha ! ha!" 

To which he replied "ha! ha! ha! ha! ho! ho! 
ho! ho!' until the poor man fainted with laughter 
in my arms. Fond hopes were now blighted. 
He was the man I had been looking for. 

Gazing with sadness too intense for words into 
his pale, sweet, smiling face, I could see millions ! 

"A drink of brandy will save him," some one 
suggested, and before I could reach his cherry 
lips with the great quart bottle, he sweetly opened 
his eyes and laughed again. After emptying the 
contents of the quart bottle, he was fully restored 
to consciousness, and we were partners. 

Only one thing was needed now to make my 
lectures a grand success, namely: A weeper, a 
man who could cry, weep, mourn and lament at 
will; this combination would make us a grand suc- 
cess, and Colonel Higgins suggested the name of 
his father for this high and exalted position. 

Scene 2. The great town clock had not tolled 
five; the sun was yet high above the mountains, 
and the little birds were only beginning to warble 



OF AN ILL-SPENT LIFE. 1/3 

their evening notes, when a carriage drawn by 
two beautiful dapple greys called at the San Mar- 
cos for the author of these historical facts. In this 
carriage sat two distinguished gentlemen — Coh 
Fred L. Higgins and father. The first sight of the 
Colonel's father thrilled me with a shudder such 
as I had experienced in innocent childhood, pass- 
ing through a graveyard after dark. I scented a 
fortune in the adventure, however, and shook him 
cordially by the hand. 

After the introduction and tears, the old man 
recited to me a bit of his history. For forty years 
he was chief undertaker in Shreveport. His 
health failing, he was appointed chief mourner 
during the yellow fever epidemic. Business be- 
coming dull, he drifted in the course of circum- 
stances to Santa Barbara, where, on account of 
the distressingly healthy condition of this country, 
he had met with financial reverses and was glad to 
get the position as weeper from me. He was 
related both by consanguinity and affinity to 
Thomas Jefferson and Alexander the Great. His 
son, (Colonel Higgins) inherited his laughing 
qualities from his grand ma, (Mrs. Thomas Jeffer- 
son) and his own individual weeping propensities 
came directly from his grand-pa, (Alexander the 
Great), who wept because he couldn't find other 
worlds to conquer. Before the interesting conver- 
sation could be terminated we were at Montecito, 



1/4 UPS AND DOWNS 



greeted by a cheerful audience. 

According to previous arrangements, we took 
i eats together on the stage; the Colonel on my 
right; the old man on my left. It was privately 
agreed that a wink from my right eye, was the 
sign for the Colonel to laugh; and a gentle raise 
of my left hand, was for the old man to cry: 
After the preliminaries, I arose and commenced 
in the ridiculous as follows: — 

"Fellow Citizens: — The American eagle flopped 
his wings and soared aloft, and soared aloft !" — [a 
slight pause] I looked witty and continued — "Fel- 
low citizens, I once was ignorant as you are, but 
look what education and the American eagle has 
done for me." Here nervously I close my right 
eye; but no response, my laugher was making eyes 
at a Spanish girl in the audience. Seeing that a 
whopper was necessary to bring a laughter, I con- 
tinued — "What was I, Fellow Citizens, when the 
American eagle was no bigger than a bandana 
handkerchief and the star spangled banner splat- 
tered all over with blood? Wasn't I thar; and 
wasn't I the first man to holler, strike for your 
country and your homes? and while you struck 
for your country; didn't I strike for home? You 
bet! In the excitement of the moment instead of 
closing my right eye, I unthinkingly raised my 
left hand, and the old man cried like his heart 
would break. O, he was a cryer from cryerville. 



OF AN ILL-SPENT LIFE. 1 75 

There was weeping, wailing, and gnashing of 
teeth. Quick as possible, I closed my right eye 
on the Colonel, who brought a sickly laugh; but 
the old man was too much for him, cried him 
dov/n, and refused to be comforted. The audience 
was in tears, and what under the heavens could I 
do but fall down on his neck and weep also? 

Harry. 

P. S. If the old man don't cry himself to death, 
in six months I will be worth a fortune. 




CHAPTER XX. 

harry's description of his sweetheart at san 
marcos hotel. 

The Ups and Downs of an 111 Spent Life is 
finished; so now I want a painter to sketch a scene 
for me. I want nothing solemn, majestic, masked 
by impenetrable mysteries, with melancholy pines 
in the illimitable solitudes of the forest, as did 
Geo. Egbert Craddock. No Cumberland range 
bleak and bare with leafless trees and frowning 
cliffs. 

I want none of the divine pleasures of a winter 
fireside with warm hearth rugs and curtains flow- 
ing in ample draperies on the floor, while the w r ind 
and rain are raging audibly without, as did De 
Quincey. 

Neither do I care for the unpretending cottage 
of a scholar populous with books, as Victor Hugo; 
but I want a painter to come in reality before the 
public into whose private ears I have been confi- 
dentially whispering my confessions — 

Hark ! my fair Electra, you are here; bless me 



OF AN ILL-SPENT LIFE. 1/7 

with an evening kiss and draw the sketch. Paint 
a golden moon in the purple dusk and let the 
world be sweet. Paint the stars twinkling in 
the liquid air to bless mankind with joy, and 
let a clear blue sky be canopied over Santa 
Barbara. Let the grass be green, the flowers 
blooming, and the birds singing. Make the roses 
bountiful and large and sufficiently red to make a 
spot on the planet Mars and imagine it the month 
of May, but I will whisper in secret, lest a Greek 
might hear and this statement be discredited, 
"Fair Electra it is the 15th of December." 

Draw now in the midst of this scene a Palace. 
Let your imagination be vivid and decorate it with 
every romantic embellishment of fancy. Adorn 
the halls with ancient portraits; open wide the par- 
lor doors, and let the chandeliers of jet spread a 
golden light over the velvet carpets. Environ it 
with broad piazzas and great pillars of marble 
gazing peacefully at the ocean below. Let its 
domes tint blue in the moonlight, its flags float 
softly in the breezes and write in golden letters 
high on its pinnacle — San Marcos Hotel. There, 
my fair Electra, you have a portion of the building. 
Draw now for me a beautiful garden in which is 
produced all the fruits that man can desire for its 
servant. Make a great tree as an island in the 
centre of the garden, and spread its sylvan shades 
over 500 guests comfortably seated in Sedan 



1/8 UPS AND DOWNS 



chairs. Let it all look less like earth than 
heaven. And crown the enchantment of the 
scene, painting the Queen of all the party, 
perfumed in Myrrh leaning silently against 
the great tree. Paint her cheeks rosy with the 
freshness of youth; her arms white and bare, and 
give her an expression of childlike frankness — 
the loveliest young woman for face and person in 
all the land. Give her a hundred suitors, let them 
love her — love her wisely, and be vigilant over 
her deportment. Let Baron and Munchausen watch 
and woo her for a smile. Name her May, or, 
will say, sweet May. Draw the Ulysses of the 
brigade, the genius of all the land by her side. 
Let him tenderly and respectfully raise her little 
hand to his lips and cause her to understand that he 
would like to rank as No. 10 or 12 — name him — 
yes name him Harry — Ah, there !— Fair Electra, 
don't get jealous; but let her cheeks redden like 
the rosy sunset as she soils the lapels of his new 
Prince Albert coat with her golden hair and 
sweetly whispers you are No. 1. 

# # # # Please excuse these 
tears. 







SANTA BARBARA, CAL., 

13 E. Anapaxmi Street, Opp. the Consuelo. 



The Association has a handsomely furnished 
parlor, a library of several hundred volumes, and 
reading room with all the daily and weekly papers, 
hall and gvinnasiuim. 

Open daily from 8 a. m. to 10 p. m. On Sun- 
day from 2 to 5 p. m., with meetings for men only 
at 4 p. m. 

Strangers and visitors heartily welcome. 



OFFICERS: 

President, Vice-President, 

Capt. Chas. P. Low. W. N. Hawley, 

Secretary, Ass't. Secretary, 

C. W, Beers. A. McDowell. 



Ladies' Auxiliary meets the first Saturday of 
each month at 2 p. m. 

President, 1st. Vice-President, 

Mrs. S. B. P. Knox. Mrs. L. G. Oliver. 

Secretary, Treasurer, 

Mrs. R. F. Bingham. Mrs. Dr. Stoddard. 






Los Angeles 



CENTRALW.C.T. U 



Meets every Friday at 2 p, m., at the 



M. E. CHURCH SOUTH 



•ON 



Fort Street, bet. Fifth and Sixth. 



Upon the completion of the Southern California 
W. C, T. U. Headquarters their meetings will be 
held there; as the beautiful 

TEMPERANCE TEMPLE 

now building on the corner of Fort and Temple, 
is built by the free will offerings and efforts of 
the local Unions of Southern California, and 
is to be their home and pride. 



AND « PA 



SON 



CARRY THE 



U . S. MAIL 



EAVING SANTA BARBARA AT 7:30 
a. m. every day, passing Goleta, Santa Ynez 
and Ballards, and arriving at Los Olivos at 5 
p. m. 

Returning, leaving Los Olivos at 7:30 a. m., 
and arrive at Santa Barbara at 5 p. m. 



GOOD SIX-HORSE COACHES. 



Office at the Commercial Hotel, : State Street 



M. H. LOW, Agent 



JOHN S. BELL & CO., 

(Successors to Bell & McCann,) 

DEALERS IN 

PAINTS, OILS M GLASS, WALL PAPERS, 

ARTISTS' MATERIALS, ETC. 

Santa Barbara, California. 

Having- secured the services of Henri Baron, 
Beaux Arts, Paris, Architectural Department, we 
are now prepared to do Fresco Painting in the 
most unique and original designs. 

You are invited to inspect the samples of de- 
coration from which selections can be made, from 
original sketches of foreign art works. Tints and 
colors can be chosen, and a knowledge obtained 
of whatever may be needed for the embellishment 
of the house or the decoration of a church. 

Interior Decorations, ana Fresco in Camaien, Oil, and Tempera, 

elaborate or simple, after the ancient, mediaeval or modern 
style of ornamentation for public buildings, theatres, etc. 
We make a specialty of House Painting, and for this purpose 

we have secured the services of the well-known artist, Mr. 

Marion Lloyd. The mere mention of Mr. Lloyd's name, is a 

guarantee that the work will be satisfactorily performed. We 

are also fully prepared to do 

PAPER HANGING, ARTIST'S DECORATIVE PAINTING. 

In newness of execution and moderation of charges, we will 
endeavor to merit the patronage of our friends and the support 
and confidence of the public. 



Krancis H. Knight, 



dealer in fine, medium and low priced 





LLU1UH1J, 



Wall Paper. Picture Frames, and House FnrisbiMs. 



THE LARGEST STOCK AND LOWEST PRICES. 



UNDERTAKER AND FUNERAL DIRECTOR. 



Clock Building, Santa Barbara, Cal. 

TELEPHONE 75 & 83. 



LOS ALAMOS. 



On the Pacific Coast R. R.. in tlie center of the 1 eautiful Los 
Alamos Valley, arises a thriving village of 1200 inhabitants, 
bearing the same name. A name suggestive of the famous Cot- 
tonwood tree so well known along the banks of the sparkling 
streams. 

\Vithin a l>L»ck from the depot stands the m ignificent Alamo 

Hotel, where the writer, in company with Messrs. E. B. and 
Fred Higgins, registered for a night's stay; but were so charm- 
ingly entertained by the proprietor and his family that we 
remained several days. 

Mr. Sin der is a hospitable, whole sonled man, and knows how 
to make his guests feel at home, and to touch the little weak 
i oints in hunum nature; for instance, he introduced our party 
to a number of lady visitors, after which we could not have 
been run off with a stick. We sang until the weary hours. 

The Alamo would be prominent in a large city, and the seen 
ery environing the town which we beheld from the balconies of 
our hotel is all that the lover of Nature could desire. 

We also accepted Mr. Snyder's invitation for a drive along 
the sides of the sloping hills, where the scenery is ever chang- 
ing, never the same, and always p reserving the pleasant lights 
and shades that render a location desirable. A description of 
the rising hills, the foliage of the large green trees sending their 
sylvan shades over half an acre; the silvery lakes of water, and 
the beautiful fields of waving grain below, appear fabulous in 
print, to the eastern reader. But what would appear more 
fabulous is stern reality, the actual average production of this 
valley in figures, as follows: Wheat, 45 to 60 bushels per acre; ( 
barley, 40 to 60 bushels per acre, (one acre pointed out that 
yielded 112 bushels.) 

Peaches, pears, plums, graphs, in fact, all the fruits ripen 
and grow here equal to any part of the world. 

The valley needs no irrigation, has never had a drouth or a 
boom, and it is the writer's opinion that property will soon 
swell one hundred per cent. Lands are worth from 810 to 8100 
per acre, and will pay from 20 to 40 per cent, in annual pro 
d notions. 



Lonergan & Lucas, 



CITY PHARMACY, 



SANTA BARBARA, 



CALIFORNIA, 



DEALEES IN- 




Chemicals 



FANCY AND TOILET ARTICLES. 



Lantier Fils\ Colgate's, Ricksecker's and Lundborg's Per- 
fumes and Colognes. Full line of Pears', Lubin's 
and Pinaud's Toilet Requisites. 



.Imported and Domestic Cigars 



t)HYSlCtANs* prescriptions carefully compounded at all 
*Y hours, and orders answered with care and dispatch. 



Jgp^Our stock of Imported and Domestic Wines and Liquors 
for medicinal uses is complete. 



A. M. RUIZ, 



729 gtats gtwt, 



RETAIL AND JOBBING DRUGG1S 



Fine line of Imported and Domestic 



PERFUMERY AND SOAPS. 



— Large assortment of- 







is, torn 




Brushes, Powders #& Lotions. 



PRKSCRlP'l'ION : WORK : ,\ : SPECIALTY, 



Santa Ynez Hotel 



A. WALKER, !Prop. 



OFFICE STAGE CO. 



SANTA YNEZ. 



Commercial Hotel 




(PECIAL ACCOMMO- 

) dations for Comnier- 

IScial tourists. 

_jj Most centrally located 

E hotel in the city. Free 

^carriage from all trains. 

Rates $2 to $2.50 per 

dav. 

W S LOW, 

Proprietor. 

Santa Barbara, Cal. 



I. N. COOK 



or. 



lie feacliiag Crhotographer 

Gallery 814 State Street, first floor. 



Santa Barbara, 



California. 



ZTAKES especial pains with all photographic work to have it 
^ satisfactory, from the miniature to life size. 

Babies always welcome, and taken by the instantaneous pro- 
cess. Crayon, ink and colored work done to order. 

The largest assortment of local views of any gallery in the 
city. Residences and other outside views taken to order. 



The : Alamo : Hotel 

J. D. SNYDER, Proprietor. 
LOS ALAMOS, Santa Barbara County. CALIFORNIA. 



fTRICTLY FIRST-CLASS in every partial- 

) lar. Elegant rooms, and fare as good as the 
California markets afford. Terms same as other 
leading hotels. Special rates given on application 
to tourists and families. 



The Alamo Livery, Feed and Sale Stable 

J. D. SNYDER Proprietor. 

R A SHIONABLE livery turnouts at reduced rates, and first 
e-lass conveyances to Santa Barbara or any other local point. 
Only the jnost careful drivers and best outfits furnished. The 
best conveyances for commercial men promptly furnished. This 
stable is also the headquarters of 

LOMPOC STAGE LINE. 

Only direct route to Lompoc. Coaches leave Los Alamos daily, 
Sunday excepted. Leave Los Alamos 6:30 a m. , arrive at Lom- 
poc 9:30 a m. Leaving Lompoc at 2 ;15 p. m.. arrive at Los 
Alamos 5:30 p. m. , giving commercial travelers 4J^ hours in 
Lompoc. 

Stable on Bell Street, opp. Alamo Hotel, : Los Alamos. Cal. 



RAFFOUR HOUSE 

L. RAFFOUR, Prop. 

^H^bST'} Jaiita gar*kar*a, <3al. 



FIRST-CLASS ACCOMMODATIONS 

Sample Booms for Commercial Travelers. 



!N~. H. RKED, 

PHOTOGRAPHER 

Opposite Clock Building, Santa Barbara, Cal. 



ALWAYS GET THE BEST 






/^TWELVE Views of Santa Barbara, Cal., mailed to any post- 
office in the United States for $3.00. Or one for 35 cents 8 
They are just the right subjects to cop} 7 for sketches and paint- 
ing. 

N. H. BEED, : : : PHOTOGBAPHEB. 



American jSeaig LauqdriJ 

A. M. CLARK, PROP. 



First-class - Work - Guaranteed 



As patronizers of the American Laundry for several years, 
we cheerfully recommend it to the public as strictly first class. 

E. B. HIGGINS, 
MES. HIGGINS. 



Kearney Bros., 



DEALERS IN 



Screceries •> and * previsions 

Crockery, China, Glassware, Etc. 
State Street, near Clock Building, : Santa Barbara, Cal, 

B. GUTIERREZ, DRUGGIST, 

Santa Barbara, California. 

— DEALER IN — 

Drugs and Ctiemicals 

DP H1RFUME R,Y, 
Toilet and Fancy Articles, Surgical, Dental and Optical Instru- 
ments, etc. Prescriptions carefully prepared. 



EDWARDS & BOESEKE 



-DEALEKS IN 




HARDWARE 



TINWARE, PAINTS, OILS, ETC. 



710-712 State Street, 



Santa Barbara, CaL 






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